


Lucky's Lane

by irishgirl321



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Has Some Issues, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Happy Ending, She doesn't know he's an Avenger, dogs!!!, lucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-01-30 17:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12658404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirl321/pseuds/irishgirl321
Summary: After losing your job and having to move back to your parent's home in a small, rural town, you head to your childhood favourite spot to do some thinking. There, at an old wishing well, you toss a coin and ask for some luck. And just like that, Luck finds you, with his frazzled owner in tow.





	1. The Wishing Well

**Author's Note:**

> So this started off being written as a oneshot for my 'Avengers' Oneshots' collection, however I fell in love with the fluffy, happy story and decided to make it it into a small multi-chapter story. It won't be super long, probably around five or six chapters, but I just wanted something FUN and that I can complete quickly.
> 
> My versions of Hawkeye are usually a mix of MCU's Hawkeye, and Matt Fraction's Hawkeye from the comics. He's really just my own interpretation of what I think the MCU could have made his character like, with references to both. In this story, Clint obviously has no wife, or kids.
> 
> Hopefully you guys like it!

You hadn’t been back there for a while.

You had moved away to the city, away from your parents and your hometown. Your new job had been demanding, so you did not get to return for a visit often, and when you did it was only short, and you mainly focused on spending time with your family. However, you had recently lost said job due to budget cuts.

Your apartment and the city were too expensive to live in while unemployed, and you had found it difficult to find new work. In the end, you had had to move home to live with your parents, which was somewhat dejecting. You had envisioned a grand future for yourself, and this was not it. It was disappointing.

And so, you headed back to your old haunt, a public woodland park, armed with your favourite book and a flask of tea. You used to walk your dogs here when you were younger. You went by yourself, as it was still day out and the park was always full of families, joggers and dog walkers.

It was a beautiful, sunny autumn day with barely a cloud in the sky. You had dressed in a pair of brown Timberland boots that you had bought with your last pay-check before you were let go, a pair of light blue jeans, a black tank top and an open red and white flannel shirt. You had brought a brown jacket which was tucked around your arm, as you didn’t need it right now. Your brisk walking was keeping you warm enough.

You knew exactly the perfect spot to read on a day like today. Down one of the paths, a little way off of the open plain where the main lake was situated, was a tree stump overlooking a small river. Green trees stood proudly over it, and the water gurgled as it made its way by. It was a quiet spot, the water and the trees blocking most of the yells of the children picnicking by the lake with their parents, but not so isolated that it felt threatening.

It was nick-named Lucky Lane, due to the wishing well found further down alongside it. The nick-name was so commonly used no one knew its real name, or even if it had one. It was said that the wishing well truly did bring good fortune, and you figured you’d meander down later and throw a coin in. You could really do with some luck.

It was there you headed, to the tree stump on Lucky Lane, eager to have some alone time. Your family had been milling around you, obviously noticing your bad mood. While their attempts to cheer you up were appreciated, they really only made you feel grumpier. You weren’t a fan of pity. So you were happy to get some time to yourself outside of the house, where no one could come in with some transparent, made-up excuse to try to get you to do something.

You walked briskly, looking off to your left to see could you spy the tree stump. After all, it had been a while. You would have missed it due to the shrubbery, but caught it because you noticed the slight bend in the river which acted as your marker. You carefully trampled your way over weeds and plants, before sitting down in-front of the stump, resting your back against it. You adjusted your position until you were comfortable and took your flask of tea out of your bag.

Opening your book on your lap, you started to read. Occasionally you heard people talking as they walked past, but mostly you were uninterrupted. Your only company was the breeze rustling the leaves and the flow of the river. It was a long book, and you got around a quarter of the way through it before you decided it was time to stop. Around two hours had passed. You figured you’d nip down to the wishing well before heading home to help your mom cook the Sunday dinner.

So you closed the book, gathered your stuff, and rose to your feet. Dusting off your jeans, you looked around. It was definitely more overgrown than the last time you were there. The area seemed smaller than you remembered also. It was still lovely, all the same. Slinging your backpack containing the book and tightly secured tea flask over your shoulder, you began to set off towards the wishing-well.

It was around ten minutes of walking until you reached it. You passed a couple of other people as you went; a mother in jogging clothes pushing a buggy, an old couple with their little dog, and two teenage girls who were giggling and swaying a bit too much to be considered completely sober.

It was beginning to get a bit colder, so you shrugged your jacket on. You were glad of the extra warmth that it provided. The trees shook as cool wind blew through them. Winter was most definitely coming.

You saw the wishing well in the distance as you headed towards it, growing larger by the second. It was on the left hand side of the path, a faded brown brick ring with rusty red tin roof on top. The bucket meant to be lowered down was long since missing, and had never been replaced. What would be the point if preteens trying to act “cool” just kept stealing it. Compared to your spot by the river, it hadn’t changed a bit. It had been frozen in time since you were a child.

You drew level with it and stopped, running your gaze over it. Yup, apart from a few more pronounced cracks, it had not changed. You dug around in your pocket, fishing out the quarter that you had put in earlier. You stepped up onto the concrete ledge that wrapped around the fountain, and leaned forward to look into it. It was dark, so dark that you couldn’t see the bottom. You wondered if there was still water in there, but then figured it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like you were banking on this well actually being lucky. It was more so on the off-chance it was lucky you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity.

You held your hand out, coin sitting in your open palm. It hovered over the wishing well as you tried to figure out what to say. Your fist tightened around it, and you brought it back into your chest, holding it over your heart.

_Please let me have some luck. Please let things go my way. I want to be happy._

With that, you flicked your wrist forward, tossing the coin down into the well’s depths. You listened intently, and after a moment a very faint splash reached your ears. You weren’t sure why, but you waited for a moment, waiting for something to happen. You knew it was silly, a miracle wouldn’t happen straight away, but your shoulders still slumped a bit anyhow when nothing occurred.

Mouth twisting down in a disappointed grimace, you stepped down from the ledge and went to walk away. A loud bark interrupted you, and you turned and then paused as something brown shot down the road from behind you, past the wishing well. A dog barrelled towards you, yapping loudly as it did.

It wasn’t an aggressive bark, so you didn’t feel threatened. And you liked dogs, it was the perfect way to cheer you up.

Big paws kicked up dirt and some stones as it flew towards you. You stood there, expecting it to stop last minute. It didn’t. The dog collided with your legs without breaking speed, and you went down, letting out a startled yelp as you did.

You landed with a thud in the dirt, groaning as the impact knocked the wind out of your lungs. The dog, who hadn’t fallen, milled around you, trying to climb on you and lick your face. Unable to be mad, you just laughed as you attempted to push it off of you so that you could actually sit up again.

“Hey, buddy, just give me a second here okay?!”

You managed to fend the slobbering beast off just long enough to struggle into a sitting position. Your hands were pushing the dog away by its chest, and one of your fingers bumped into something smooth and cold. Getting a quick look under the dog’s chin as you gently shoved its head away yet again you saw that it was a gold name tag attached to a purple collar.

“You got anyone looking for you, bud? Let’s see what your name is,” your hands fumbled with the tag, trying to turn it around. The dog used the opportunity that one of your hands was busy to shove forward and lick your cheek. You had to laugh, raising your shoulder to rub off the wet drool from your face. “Ewwwww, not nice, okay? I don’t even know you!”

The dog suddenly stopped its affectionate onslaught and cocked its head at you. Now that it was still you realised it only had one eye. The good eye stared at you intently and you knew it was trying to understand what you had said. It sat down, still panting lightly, and you were able to flip around the gold tag to reveal a name.

_Lucky._

You jolted slightly, suddenly feeling a bit weird. You slowly looked at the dog, and then over your shoulder too the wishing well, and then to the dog again. The coincidence was not lost on you.

What the hell…

At that moment you registered shouting. Loud shouting, from further down the path that Lucky the dog had just arrived from. You watched as a man rounded the slight bend, running at full speed. His hands were to his mouth, and you could now make out what he was calling.

“LuCKY! LUCKY! Where are you?!”

Suddenly, he caught sight of you, or more accurately caught sight of the dog seeing as you were half hidden behind it’s furry frame. His steps faltered a little, but then he kicked back into a jog until he was rapidly approaching you. You rose to your feet, not wanting to be on the ground when meeting a stranger.

The man had steely blue eyes, and slightly spiky brown hair. He was average height, but well-muscled with a cute, kind of scrunchy face. There was a small, white bandage over the bridge of his nose. He had laugh lines, and was overall very handsome. Sharp eyes flickered down you as he came over.

“Oh God, did he completely stampede you?”

You followed his gaze and realised that your jacket was sporting a new pattern of muddy pawprints, obviously from where the dog had trampled you after knocking you down.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” you smiled, looking down at the dog.

Lucky was looking from you to his owner, his tongue lolling out. His tail was wagging so hard you swore that you could barely see it.

“I’m sorry,” the man apologised. He leaned forward to clip a black lead onto the purple collar. “He just took off like a rocket. I guess he had better places to be than playing fetch with me.”

A wry smile was shot your way and you returned it, brushing your hair behind your ear as you did.

“It was no bother, really. He came along at the perfect moment in-fact.”

The man’s eyes slid to the wishing-well behind you. “Making a wish?”

You suddenly felt a bit silly under his scrutiny, like a child believing in fairy tales. You squirmed a little, tugging your jacket closer to you. “Um, yeah. Just in-case.”

“I did earlier,” he told you. “I won’t ask what you wished for, it won’t come true if you tell me.”

“Thanks,” you laughed. “I won’t ask either.”

“Thanks,” he grinned.

Lucky whimpered, tugging on his lead as he strained to get over to you.

The man eyed his dog with an arched brow. “He seems to really like you.”

“I like him too,” you said, a doting note creeping into your voice as you moved closer to the dog. You reached out to pet him, but then stopped. You looked up at his owner to ask permission. “May I?”

“Go right ahead.”

You stepped forward again, taking the dog’s face in both hands and crouching down closer to him. “Hi, puppy,” you cooed. “Why were you running away from your dad, huh?”

Lucky whined, and put one large paw upon your arm. You gave him attention for a few more minutes, before realising that the owner was still watching you. Feeling slightly embarrassed about using your baby-voice in front of a total stranger, you straightened up and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, shifting around awkwardly.

“You like dogs?” the man asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“I love them,” you nodded. “I used to bring my two here for walks all the time when I was younger. Before I moved. When they were still around.”

“I was thinking, I’ve never seen you here before,” the man commented. “We would come here fairly often.”

“I moved away, got a job in the city,” you explained. “My parents live just outside the town.”

“So you’re just visiting?” he inquired.

You had to laugh. Here you were, about to explain your shit situation to a total stranger. “Nah, I’ll be around for a bit. I got let go due to budget cuts. City was too expensive to live in without a job so I’m back here for the foreseeable future. Gonna retreat to lick my wounds and all that,” you waved your hand dismissively. “What about you? You must have moved here in the last few years or so.”

“Around three years ago,” he nodded. “I used to live in Washington. I had an incident in New York, and after that I just wanted some peace and quiet, you know? When I’m needed I go back, but I live here. Lucky and I like it a lot.”

“As small towns go, it’s not the worst,” you agreed.

He dipped his head in agreement, smiling at you slightly. You returned it, still absentmindedly stroking Lucky’s silky fur. This guy obviously took care of his dog as his coat was clean and smooth.

“I’m Clint, by the way,” he offered you his hand.

“Oh, _____,” you reached out and took it.

A slight tingle ran through your body, emanating from where his fingers touched yours. You didn’t react to it, and instead just returned his firm handshake. At that moment the touch of something wet had you yank your hand away, as Lucky had stuck his snout up into the tiny space between your hands and licked them. Clint chuckled a little at your shock, eyes glinting.

“He likes to be the centre of attention,” he joked, patting the dog’s head affectionately.

“I don’t blame him,” you smiled. “How long have you had him for?”

“Uhm, a few years now. I think he’s almost four. Or that’s what the vet thinks. He was a stray, I found him at some empty carnival site with his eye messed up and took him home.”

You felt a surge of liking for this strange man. It wasn’t every day you come across someone who would load a stray dog into their car, take it to the vets and make sure it’s looked after, and then give it a good home. What you had seen so far of this guy had make you like him.

And then there was the whole wishing well business, an oddity that you could not quite shake.

“If you’re not doing anything,” Clint interrupted your train of thought in a somewhat nervous manner. “I need to tire Lucky out a bit more before we go home. You could come play fetch with us for a bit, if you want? He plays chasing too.”

You debated it. You didn’t really know this guy, and you had been warned often about strange men in woods for the caution to stick. You examined his face, searching for a sign of something off. You usually had a very good gut feeling about these things, and your intuition wasn’t screaming warnings at you. His eyes were clear, and somewhat hesitant.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything like that,” he laughed as he held his hands up to try and appease you. “We can go play by the main lake where there’s loads of people in-case you’re worried. I won’t take offense, you don’t know me.”

You mulled it over for a nano-second more before nodding. “Alright then, the main lake sounds good.”

A pleased look flashed across his face before he masked it with a more neutral expression.

“Cool,” he shrugged. “Shall we, then?”

You nodded, and turned on your heel to walk alongside him as you headed back up the path. Lucky plodded happily in front of you both, occasionally looking back to make sure you were both still there.

“So, ______,” Clint’s voice rang out. “I’m gonna get that jacket dry cleaned for you to say sorry about all the mud.”

“You don’t have to!” you were touched by the consideration, but felt like it was somewhat unnecessary. “It wasn’t that expensive of a jacket. I’ll just stick it in the washing machine and it will be fine.”

“Nah, I’m getting it dry cleaned for you,” he protested.

“No, I’m just going to wash it myself, but thanks,” you smiled at him.

You reached out and touched his arm lightly, to show that you appreciated the gesture. He coloured slightly and ducked his head in a pleased, embarrassed little motion. His warm smile made you feel kind of weird, though you tried to push the feeling aside.

“Tell me something about yourself,” you nudged him with your elbow. “Likes, dislikes, hobbies, life story?”

“Life story?” he laughed.

“I was more joking when I said that. That may be a bit personal to begin with.”

“Definitely. But as for the rest, let’s see…” he frowned, and the fact that he was putting so much thought into his answers was slightly adorable. “Okay I like pizza, rock music and movies. That probably sums me up. Oh, and dogs. I like dogs too. I don’t like Brussel sprouts, peppermint, and screamo music. You probably didn’t see but I have hearing aids so the screamo stuff messes with them. Hobbies are archery, self-defense and painting. Though that kind of ties in with archery.”

“How so?” you giggled, curious to know more. You had never heard about any relation between painting and archery before.

“Okay so basically I get a load of balloons, fill them up with different colour paint and tape them to a white canvas. Then I stand back and shoot rubber arrows at them. They pop, paint sprays on the canvas, I get art.”

He eyed you curiously, watching how you reacted.

“That’s really cool,” you said sincerely. “It’s really creative. That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It works as a stress reliever too,” he nodded, seemingly happy you hadn’t dismissed his idea as weird. “How about you? Same questions.”

“Uhm…” you had to think it over. “Well I love dogs, obviously. Love pizza too, can’t go wrong there. I probably prefer books over TV, though the last while I haven’t read too much. I was busy with work I guess. Not to say I don’t love my TV too though.. I don’t know if I truly hate anything. Nazis, maybe? Not fond of Nazis at all. Weird one, I know, but the it’s the only thing that comes to mind… As for hobbies… I’m pretty boring in this regard. I didn’t have a lot of time when I was working. Probably reading, some writing, video games. I used to do dog training in my own time, I think I’d like to get a cert in it and do it part-time. Get to spend time with dogs and make some money.”

“Well, you’re welcome to train Lucky whenever you want,” Clint chuckled. “God knows he needs it. I wasn’t around enough to properly discipline him when he was younger.”

“He’s not bad behaved,” you protested. “Just a little exuberant.”

“Whatever it is, you’re welcome to decrease it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smiled at the man.

You were approaching the end of the line, where the path would fork and the one to the right would lead towards the lake. You shot one final look over your shoulder at the wishing well. It sat stationary behind you, small once more due to the distance. The trees above you shook slightly as wind blew through them, but nothing stirred over the wishing well. It stood almost frozen in time. You shook your head, trying to get rid of those weird thoughts.

“Everything okay?” Clint had seen the motion from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, just a strange feeling,” you told him with a small smile.

He was silent for a few seconds, before asking something that surprised you. “Do you think there’s any truth to it? The wishing well. People say it actually works.”

You shrugged, fixing your gaze ahead  so he wouldn’t see the uncertain look in your eyes. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Yeah, I guess we will,” you felt his eyes on you.

You stepped out from under the shadow of the trees and into the warm sunlight. Enjoying the heat, you didn’t bother to remove your jacket just yet, wanting to feel toasty for a bit instead. Leaves crunched under your feet as your little party made your way along the small dirt and stone pathway off to the right, leading you towards the lake. You could clearly see the water glimmering in front of you.

Clint staggered a bit as Lucky powered forward, collar half-choking him as he dragged his water towards the lake.

“Easy, boy!” Clint laughed, putting his other hand further up the lead to try restrain the big dog.

Muscles bunched as he pulled back, and you felt yourself staring a bit. This guy obviously spent a lot of time in the gym. You didn’t want to be caught staring however, so you instead shifted your gaze to the brown dog in front, whistling at him.

His ears pricked and his head swivelled back to you when he heard the noise. You grinned at him and he gave you a happy wag. However, this did not stop his pulling for long. Clint was occupied with trying to wrestle him back to his side so you took the moment to quickly look around. There were still a good few families left, children playing at the lake-side. A few couples sat on blankets, laughing and listening to music.

“Alright then,” there was a note of frustration in Clint’s voice. “You win! Go play in the water, you big oaf!”

He unclipped the lead from Lucky’s collar, and the dog was gone like a shot. He sprinted full pelt towards the water, letting out loud, triumphant barks as he did. This time he didn’t plough anyone over, which was good as it was all children around the water’s edge. You were glad, you didn’t think the parents would take it well if Lucky knocked down their children.

“Do you want to sit?” Clint asked. “We can play when he gets out of the water.”

“Sure,” you agreed.

You moved to sit down, but Clint’s arm moved across your stomach to halt you. You looked at him quizzically as he shrugged off his black padded jacket and lay it on the ground underneath you. He then sat down beside it, sitting on bare grass, and motioned for you to sit on his jacket.

“You’ve already had one piece of clothing ruined by us today, I won’t let you mess up another.”

A soft smile graced your features as you looked down at him. You were pretty touched by the gesture. A man had never done that for you before.

Your jacket was already muddy, and it would have made sense for you just to sit on that, but you could see by the eager expression he was trying to hide that he actually wanted you to sit down upon his jacket. He wanted to be able to be the gentleman. Not wanting to hurt his feelings or reject him, you sat down on the jacket beside him and smiled.

“I can move over a bit and we can both share?” you offered, despite all the above not wanting to hog it yourself.

“Nah, the grass is actually fine. That could be a dirty patch though. You just stay there,” he grinned.

You just nodded, staring into his eyes. He shifted slightly closer, so that your shoulders brushed together slightly. A thought occurred to you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, rocking forward.

Clint jumped slightly, obviously a bit startled by the sudden movement. “What?! What’s wrong?!”

“Nothing, nothing,” you clarified, reaching for your bag. “I just remembered I have a flask of tea! It should still be warm enough… Do you want some?” You unzipped the bag and dug around, reaching fingers bumping into the smooth metal of the flask. You grasped it, and it still felt warm.

“Sure, I’ll have some,” he chuckled as you triumphantly removed it from your bag and held it up.

It came with two cups, which you detached and passed to Clint. He held them, one in each hand as you unscrewed the flask’s cap. He shifted slightly, turning his body towards you a bit more so that you would have an easier time pouring. You felt like your hands were a bit shaky as he watched you pour the liquid into each cup. His own hands were so perfectly steady he could have been a statue.

After you finished pouring you screwed the cap tightly back on, and then leaned in to dig around in your bag for something else. “Do you want milk with it?”

He threw his head back and laughed in disbelief. “You brought milk with you?”

“Not really. Yanno those little tubes you get in McDonalds when you get a coffee? I have some of those.”

“Okay, not as weird,” he shot you an amused look.

“Do you want your tea or not?” you said in a mock-stern manner.

Knowing you weren’t actually annoyed, he flashed you a white-toothed winning smirk. “Yes, please. I want my tea.”

The look had your stomach twist in nervous knots. He really was extraordinarily handsome. And was his tone… Flirty?

Instead of saying anything clever in response, you just took your cup from his outstretched hand. He winked at you, and you blushed slightly and turned away. Lucky was splashing around in the lake, his snout under the water.

“What’s he doing?” you giggled, pointing to the dog.

Clint’s eyes followed yours, and then he groaned loudly. “Oh for God’s sake, he’s eating tadpoles again! LUCKY!”

The dog raised his head, water dripping form his muzzle. For a second he and Clint locked eyes in a battle of dominance, before Lucky just began to snorkel for tadpoles again. Clint put his head into his hands and groaned, cup resting against his forehead. You patted his back in sympathy.

“Are they harmful?” you asked.

“Nah, he should be okay. I used to have a pond in my backyard with tadpoles in it, but he ate them. Nothing bad ever happened.”

“So this is not an unusual occurrence,” you just had to laugh.

“Unfortunately not,” he shook his head. “That dog eats anything.”

“At least it’s not harmful.”

Clint just shrugged, raising his cup to his lips to take a sip of the tea. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes were focused straight ahead, blue and thoughtful. You followed suit, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts. A few minutes later he seemed to snap back to reality, turning to look at you.

“Sorry,” he said. “I completely zoned out.”

At that moment a loud splash was heard. Lucky was leaping through the water, racing back for thr shore.

“Oh no,” Clint groaned. “Quick, up!”

You followed his lead and scrambled to your feet, tea sploshing out of the side of the cup. For a moment you were confused to why he’d snapped for you to get up but as you once more witnessed Lucky running full tilt towards you and suddenly you understand. Clint’s cup fell to the ground as he dropped it, moving in front of you with the focus of a football player as he intercepted Lucky from knocking you down again. The force of the running dog slamming into him threw him flat onto his back, his head barely missing your shoes.

You let out a startled scream. Clint groaned underneath the mass of fluff on top of him and you knelt down to see if he was alright. Placing your cup on the ground you shoved Lucky off of him. His eyes were closed as you hovered above him.

“Clint?” your voice was filled with panic as you wondered if he had been knocked out. You kneeled, sliding his head onto your lap as you touched his chest, trying to see if he was okay although you had no idea how to tell if he wasn’t. “Clint?! Are you alright?”

“Ow,” he moaned, lashes fluttering as his eyes opened.

His eyes found yours directly above him and you laughed with relief, putting a hand to your face. “Oh my God, I was so scared for a moment there!”

“I’m harder to get rid of then that,” Clint joked, smiling up at you.

You grinned back. After a few seconds you realised you still had his head on your lap and felt a little awkward. “Are you okay, or…?”

He blinked, not understanding. Then realisation dawned and his eyes widened. He began to struggle upright, looking a bit sheepish. “I’m good. Uh, sorry.”

“No bother.”

He rose to his feet, swatting gently at Lucky’s back. Despite being bowled over there was still affection on his face when he regarded the dog.

Lucky pranced away happily, dancing to a tree and picking up a stick. He trotted back to you, shaking his head happily and began to try to shove it into your hand. You laughed, wondering if this dog ever got tired, but took it from him anyway. You held the bottom of it, careful not to touch the slimy middle where Lucky had had it in his mouth. You held it over your head and he barked at you, walking backwards. You flicked your arm forward and he turned around and took off in the direction of the motion. As soon as he was facing away you folded your arms behind your back, still holding the stick.

Lucky stopped running after a few seconds, upon not seeing where the stick had landed. He turned to look back at you, head cocked in confusion. You plastered an innocent smile on your face and coughed to cover a chuckle. Lucky began to turn in a circle, glancing around to try find where the stick had fallen. You allowed yourself to laugh openly and removed it from your back. When he saw it his tail started wagging again.

This time when you arched your arm back and shot it forward you threw the stick for real. Lucky panted loudly as he raced off after it. You hadn’t thrown it too far, so he was back in a few seconds, this time presenting it to Clint. His owner took it, and smoothly flung it further than you thought possible to throw a stick. Upon seeing your shocked face he just shrugged smugly. “Archery has its perks.”

“I’ll say,” you commented under your breath, eyes on the muscles once again.

Next time Lucky returned the stick it was to you. You went to take it, but another hand shot out and snatched it before you could.

“Hey!” you exclaimed in indignation.

Clint backed away, smirking and twirling the stick around his fingers. “You guys want it?” He looked from you to Lucky, and back again. “Then come and get it.”

You charged, attempting to take it from his hands before he had time to react. However the stick had vanished by the time your fingers closed around where it had been. You staggered slightly, having thrown yourself forward in order to get it. Clint danced to the side of you, holding the stick out of your reach. You twirled and threw yourself at him, managing to wrap your arms around his waist. He tried to shake you off, laughing, but you held on as tight as you could.

As he tried to diminish your hold on him, he tripped over your feet and went caneering backwards. Due to your grip around his middle, you were carried with him. The stick flew from his grasp as his arms windmilled, trying to get his balance back and stay upright. It didn’t work. For the second time that day, both of you went crashing to the ground.

You landed on top of him, and he let out a loud ‘oomfff” as you knocked all the air from his chest. Your forehead knocked into his jaw, drawing cries of pain from you both. However, his hands were around you, stopping you from going rolling off.

Hair hung around your face as you got your breath back and raised your gaze to his. Your faces were very close together. He stared at you, the pain fading from his eyes and being replaced by something else. A slow grin dawned on his features, and you smiled back. The moment seemed to spark with something familiar, but also different.

Lucky barged into you, his wet body brushing against yours. He was gnawing on the stick that he now had clamped between his jaws. His tail was wagging triumphantly and he shoved the stick into your face. You raised a hand off of Clint’s chest to try fend him off.

“Jeez, this dog really doesn’t know about personal space!” you joked. 

“Neither doe someone else, apparently,” Clint’s eyes sparkled as he teased you, eyeing your position on top of him.

You flushed, and rolled off him. Your entire body felt hot with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“I was just kidding,” he appeased you, hoisting himself up by his elbows.

Lucky still danced around you both.

“He still wants to play,” you laughed.

You rose to your feet and stooped to offer Clint a hand. He took it, but you knew it was just to be polite. You felt no pressure of pull when he stood up. He brushed himself down as you straightened your clothing. When he was done, he turned to make eye contact with you.

“Are you still up for some more fetch?” he asked a bit hesitantly.

You felt a rush of happiness that he hadn’t felt too awkward that he no longer wanted you around. There was a goofy grin on your face. “Sure.”

He dipped his head in a little, pleased motion, and snatched the stick from Lucky’s mouth. He outstretched his hand, offering it to you.

“Ladies first,” he said, sweeping his arms out as he bowed.

You giggled, and took the stick. "Now you're chivalrous, huh?"

You played for another 45 minutes or so, until Lucky was no longer running around, and was instead lying on the ground. His paws were out in front of him, and he was panting deeply as his pink tongue lolled out. He was obviously happy. While there were still a few people left in the park, it was a lot less busy than it had been earlier.

You hadn’t noticed the people clearing out, but they apparently had been. You were alone on the main clearing, not that you minded. You felt very at ease around Clint. He had a jokey, yet gentlemanly manner that was endearing. You got the feeling that he wasn’t used to displaying such manners, but that he was really trying.

You had taken off your jacket as all the running and throwing had made you warm. You leaned down to snatch it off the ground as Clint clipped Lucky’s leash back onto him. He moved towards you, forcing Lucky to rise and follow. His hands reached out and carefully plucked the jacket out of your grasp.

“I told you, I’m getting this dry cleaned for you,” he said softly.

“You don’t have to,” you were blushing slightly.

He motioned in the direction of the car park, and you nodded. The two of you sauntered along, Lucky, for once, following tiredly behind you. You reached for your jacket, which Clint had looped around his arm, but he shifted it away from your reach.

“Dry. Cleaned,” he said forcefully.

“No,” you admonished, trying to pry it off him again.

You entered the car park, and drew to a halt. Your little red car was right beside where you now stood. You moved to take it again, but Clint lifted the hand holding Lucky’s lead to fend you off.

“______, no!”

“Please, Clint. I’m going to feel really bad if you spend money getting it dry cleaned!” you begged.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, trying to convey some message. Seeing your confused face, he sighed and ran a hand over his face as he glanced away. When his eyes refocused on you he looked resigned. “Please let me get it dry cleaned. It… Uh… It gives me the excuse to see you again, alright?”

_Oh._

_Wow._

You hadn’t expected that. You just thought he was focused on trying to be nice. Knowing this… His face had coloured a little, a faint blush making him look a bit pink.

“Look, if you don’t want to see me again that’s fine-,” he mumbled, shifting the jacket awkwardly in his arms. “I just had a really nice time and-.”

“So did I,” you interrupted. “I really did. And I’d like to see you again too.”

He seemed a bit shocked at first at yours words, like he didn’t really expect you to reciprocate. Then he beamed at you, his eyes crinkling with happiness. “Uh, cool! That’s great! Could I maybe get your number? I can send you a text when it’s all done and we can arrange how I get it back to you?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

He had whipped his mobile phone from his pocket in an instant. Trying to balance all the things he was holding, he managed to unlock it and then passed it to you. You type your number in, and then selected to add contact. You entered your first name in and clicked save. The new contact information was now proudly displayed on the screen, and you showed it to him as you passed it back.

He examined it for a second, a small smirk twisting his lips. He pushed a button on the side of the phone and then slid it into his pocket, patting his jeans as he did. “Got it. I’ll drop it off this evening.”

“Alright,” you grinned at him.

“Alright,” he repeated, and then looked behind you. “Is this your car?”

“Yeah. My leaky Fiat,” you touched the hood of the car affectionately.

“Leaky?” he inquired.

“My mom is prejudiced against Fiats,” you rolled your eyes. “It runs fine though, better than her car.”

“It’s cute,” he smiled.

“Thanks! Maybe some time I’ll take you for a spin!” It was more of a joke, but he seemed to like the idea. You talked for a bit more, before eventually you sighed. “I should go. We do Sunday dinner, so it’s on a bit earlier in the day than normal dinner.”

“That’s okay, I’ll see you soon anyhow.”

You brushed a strand of hair back behind your cheek, and then crouched down to say goodbye to Lucky. You gave him a long pat, and fussed over him a bit before standing up again. Clint had been watching you with a soft look in his eye.

“I guess, goodbye for now then?” you offered nervously.

You weren’t really sure what to do in this situation. Did you shake his hand? Hug him? Did he expect a kiss? You really hoped he didn’t. You weren’t really into kissing strangers, and if he expected it than it would kind of ruin the image of him you had in your head. He seemed uncertain too, which was good.

“I don’t want to cross any boundaries,” he chuckled nervously. “How about a good old fashioned high five?”

A burst of incredulous (and slightly relieved laughter) came from you. He stepped forward, holding his hand up. You hit your hand against it, and a loud clap rang out.

“That was a good one,” he confirmed with a smirk. “We high-five well together.”

“A sure sign,” you joked.

You lightly punched his chest, but didn’t remove your hand. You hadn’t noticed earlier, when you’d been knocked down on top of him, but his chest was as hard as rock. He definitely had some serious abs under there. Your hand opened without you thinking, fingers resting on his body. His gaze burned into yours, a smouldering look in his steely blue eyes. His hand ran through his hair as he looked at you intently.

“Better get yourself into that car,” his voice had a rougher element to it. “Before I potentially overstep a boundary.”

You withdrew your hand and swallowed, hard. It wasn’t out of nerves. Well, it was. But not fearful nerves.

“Bye, Clint,” you said softly.

You dug your keys out of your pocket, unlocking your car. Lights flared to signify that it was open and you slid into the driver’s seat. You inserted the key into the ignition and turned, the car growling to life under you. Strapping yourself in with your seatbelt, your eyes raised to the rear-view mirror. You could see Clint, illuminated by the evening light, still standing behind your car. You put the car into reverse, but still had a foot on the brake so it did not move. Seeing the changing lights, he sauntered off to the side. You slowly pulled backwards out of your spot, reversing until you were level with him.

He tapped your window and you rolled it down.

“Get home safe,” he told you. “I’ll text you when I get back to check on you.”

“Yeah, alright,” that goofy, pleased smile was back on your face.

“See you soon,” he said huskily, sliding away from your window.

“See you soon,” you agreed.

You put the car into forward and it crawled slowly towards the car park entrance. As you got to the gate, you looked out your window. Clint was still watching you go. He raised an arm to wave as he saw you looking at him. You waved back, and then peeled out onto the main road and made your way home.


	2. Texting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alriiiiight, thank you to all kudos, comments and subscriptions! I love you guys! I tried to respond when on the bus but the wifi cut out so I'll do so tomorrow! Hope you are all well! Special shoutout to 'longwarmhugs' who literally always gives me some of the kindest and most supportive comments I have ever read. You always say such lovely things and really take the time to comment and support me. You are always so so kind and I love you to pieces for it, you are incredible! And so are the rest of you!
> 
> By the way, bold text is used for written messages. Text messages, primarily, in their chapter.  
> Italics I mostly use for thought, to show patterns and processes and how the reader is feeling/their internal monologue.

** CHAPTER TWO **

You pulled into your parent’s driveway just as the sky was beginning to darker. It was still light out, but more of a hazy blue colour, streaked with pink as dusk set in. A few fluffy clouds floated overheard as you stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind you. Lights flashed as you locked it behind you as you trekked towards the house.

You tromped up the stairs and onto the deck, before lifting your hand to knock on the front door. You faltered just before making contact with the wood, closed fist lingering in the air.

You lived here now, you didn’t have to knock.

Still, you felt that it was slightly odd. After you had moved out you had knocked whenever you came back to visit, even though your parents had told you not to. It had just felt… Proper. You didn’t live there anymore, so you shouldn’t just walk in. But now you lived here again.

You dug your keys out of your pocket and inserted them into the door, twisting and pushing it open. The warmth and aroma of food surrounded you instantly, and you inhaled deeply. Kicking the door closed behind you, you sauntered into the kitchen. The fire was on, crackling as red flames licked upwards.

Your father sat on the sofa with his legs up on the foot-rest in front of him. He reading a book, eyes quickly scanning the pages. He had the TV on the background, but wasn’t watching it. He lowered it as he noticed you coming into the room, shooting you a fond smile. You returned it, taking your bag off your shoulder and dropping it to the floor beside him.

“Good day?” he asked.

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it all. It was kind of weird to gossip about boys with your dad. “Yeah, I did some reading, took a walk, saw a dog.”

“You and dogs,” he grumbled, shaking his head as he returned to his book.

You just smirked, and continued walking towards the kitchen, where you figured you would find your mom (and the food). Your dad was not an animal lover, only owning animals because your mom wanted them. You opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. Your mother was over by the counter, stirring a pot of soup on the stove. She turned when she heard you come in and flashed you a grin.

“Hey,” she said. “You were out later than I expected.” She turned back around and began to tend to the soup once more.

You snuck a look in the pot, it seemed to be your favourite kind of soup. _Yessssss._

“Um, yeah…” you grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl, sitting down on one of the swivel chairs beside the kitchen counter. “I started talking to someone on Lucky Lane. We ended up chatting for a while.”

Your mom stopped, and glanced back at you over her shoulder. Her eyes glimmered with curiosity, and you knew that she was excited. She’d been after you to date someone for a while, especially someone local. You knew she would like you to find a man who lived here, so you would be close to her.

“A guy?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“Yeah, a guy,” you took a bite from the apple, chewing nonchalantly.

She turned away from the pot of soup, leaning back against the counter and folding her arms as she looked at you. There was a small smile twisting her face and she watched you curiously. “What happened?”

“His dog ran off and knocked me over. He came over, helped me up, and we talked for a bit and played with his dog. He’s… He seems really nice.”

“What’s his name?” You knew she was trying to figure out if she knew him. This place was pretty small after all.

“Clint, I didn’t get a last name.”

“No… I don’t think I know him. Did he move here recently?”

“A few years back.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“He took my jacket to get it dry cleaned as his dog got muck on it. He’s going to have to drop it back to me, so yeah. I will.”

“Do you want to see him again?” she pressed, moving over to rest her hands upon the counter you were leaning your elbows on.

“Um, yeah. I think so,” you told her honestly. “He really took my mind off things.”

“Is he cute?”

You had to laugh at that. This was why you enjoyed telling her things. She always listened and had an interest. When you didn’t answer she raised a brow at you, waiting for you to reply. “Yes, he’s cute!” you relented.

She clapped her hands together at you rolled your eyes good naturedly at her excitement. “What does he look like? Tall, dark and handsome?”

“Um, no, no and yes,” you said truthfully. “He’s about average height, he’s not super tall. He’s got blue eyes, and this kind of spiky-at-the-front light brown hair. He’s pretty muscled too, if I’m honest.” A slightly smug tone entered your voice at that last sentence.

Your mom’s eyes widened. Her lips pursed and she looked a slight bit scandalised. “And how do you know, my dear daughter?”

“Oh my God, stop,” you had to roll your eyes at her. “I obviously didn’t do anything with a stranger in the woods.”

“Did you kiss him?” she interrogated you.

“No!”

She stared into your eyes, trying to see if you were lying.

“He was just wearing a t-shirt,” you explained, throwing out your arms in exasperation. “Jeez, mom!”

“Okay!” she relented. “I wasn’t trying to say anything!”

You just shot her an annoyed look, but she just winked at you. Whirling around to the sweet cupboard, she grabbed a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits and plonked them down on the counter in front of you. She knew they were your favourite. You shot her a look, but she knew that you were relenting as you opened the packet.

“When are you going to see him again?” she changed the subject.

You thought about arguing with her over her previous comment a bit more, but then decided to just shrug it off. It wasn’t worth the argument.

“Soon, hopefully. Once he gets the jacket dry cleaned. H

“He was supposed to text me after he got home… I hope he’s alright,” you were suddenly a bit worried.

“I’m sure he’s okay, honey. You only just got back yourself,” she reminded you as she turned back to stir the soup.

At that moment your phone pinged and you immediately dove into your pocket to retrieve it. The little light at the top was flashing, and you quickly keyed in your password and opened it. However, it was not a text from Clint. Only a promotional email from a clothing website. Obviously noting you deflating slightly, your mom put a hand on your shoulder.

“Stop stressing,” she informed you. “He’ll text.”

You just nodded, before figuring it was probably best to try and distract yourself. “Do you need a hand with anything here?”

“You could set the table if you want,” she instructed you.

“Sure thing, I can do that,” you ducked off to do as bided.

You moved the place mats out, and then went to get the plates. Gathering up three, you set them on top of the mats and then went to get cutlery and glasses. You grabbed the kitchen towelettes off the counter and put it down in the centre of the table. By the time you were done, your mother had the soup ready in separate bowls and passed you a tea towel so that you could carry them to the table without getting burned.

She then took a glass bowl filled with pasta out of the oven. You hadn’t even known that it was there. She covered it with some tin foil before leaving it on a stand on top of the stove. When she caught your enquiring look she just smiled.

“I made your favourite foods. You’ve had a rough time recently, there’s no denying that. I know you’re not happy about having to move home, but you’ve handled it all very maturely. I just want you to know that you can come talk to me if you want.”

You felt touched by the words, and your eyes started to well with unanticipated tears. “Thanks, mom,” you smiled at her happily.

“Just wanted you to know,” she repeated, taking off her oven gloves. “Now go call your father in for dinner.”

You tracked over to the living room and stuck your head in the door. Your father was still reading his book, though judging by the thickness of the pages he was definitely further into it than he had been earlier.

“Dad, dinner!” you called.

He glanced up and nodded, closing the book with a snap. You ducked back in as he was rising to his feet, and went to take your old seat at the table. Your mom sat down opposite you, and your dad beside you at the head of the table. You took a slice of bread of one of the communal plates in the centre of the table, and dipped it into your soup. You took a bite and smiled at your mom.

“It’s great,” you commented.

Your phone went off once more, and you immediately shot to your feet. You had left it on the kitchen island across the room. You shifted past your dad’s chair, and he turned to watch where you were going.

“No phones at dinner,” he reminded you, but your mom just shushed him.

Surprise showed on his features, he wasn’t used to your mom being lax about the no phone at dinner rule, she had never been before.

You scurried to the island, and lifted your phone up, turning it around to see the screen. You once more keyed in your password, getting it wrong the first time because you were in such a hurry. When it finally opened you felt your heart begin to beat a little faster. Rather than another email, it was a text from an unknown number.

You opened the message, and read.

**Hi ______, it’s Clint, from the park earlier. Sorry for the late text message, my phone died on the way back and I had to stop to get dog food. I just wanted to check in and make sure you got home okay?**

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the large smile growing across your face, and quickly typed a response. You didn’t even winder if replying right away would look desperate, you just wanted to talk to him.

**Hi Clint! I’m glad to hear you’re back safe, I was getting a bit worried when I didn’t hear from you. I’m home fine, about to have some dinner! How’s Lucky? Still tired?**

The response came almost immediately after you had hit send.

**He’s good, still tired, thank God! Thank you for helping me wear him out! It was really nice to meet you. I already dropped your jacket off at the dry cleaner’s, so it should be ready in a day or two. If you’re having dinner I can leave you alone? I don’t want to keep you from your family.**

You glanced back at the table, aware that both of your parents were watching you. Your dad seemed confused, probably because he hadn’t seen you linger over your phone this much since you were a teenager. Your mom’s eyes were alight with curiousity. When she saw you looking at her she arched a brow at you, silently asking how it was going.

You shot her a smile, and fired a quick text back before returning to the table and starting to wolf down your dinner. Your dad protested a little at how fast you were eating, but you were intent on excusing yourself as soon as possible and did not falter. The text you had sent said:

**I can just reply to you when I’ve finished eating! But if you have something else you need to do I can just talk to you whenever? It was really lovely to meet you guys too, I really needed that bit of fun today!**

His reply came as you were eating, but you fought back the temptation to check your phone at the table. Your parent heard the chime too and when you glanced up you caught your dad mouthing ‘what’s going on?’ at your mom. In response she simply just shook her head at him and gathered some more pasta onto her fork, knowing you were looking at them.

You flew through the two courses in around ten minutes, giving yourself a stomach cramp at the end. Pressing a hand to your stomach and wincing, you looked at your mother. “May I be excused?”

“Just clean off your plate and put it in the dishwasher,” she nodded, shooting you a conspiratory wink,

You did as you were asked, and then left the kitchen. You headed upstairs, and then down the hall, past your brother’s bedroom. You could see the university flag proudly pinned to his wall opposite the door and sighed. He was off at college, and you likely wouldn’t see him until around December. Ignoring the sad pang that your younger brother was out living a semi-adult life and you were not, you continued to your room.

You quietly shut the door behind you and made your way over to the bed. Apart from your family, this bed was one of the very few things you missed about being home. It was an expensive mattress, and in so was very comfortable. While your one in the city had done the job, it was nothing compared to this. You sank down onto it, lying on your back and taking your phone out of your pocket again.

You pulled up your messages, and read Clint’s waiting reply.

**No, I honesty can say I don’t have anything to do other than sit at home and watch a movie. Any suggestions? What was for dinner?**

You held the phone above you awkwardly as you typed your reply. You hit the wrong keys and had to erase words a few times, but eventually you got it.

**Well, what genre are you thinking? Horror, comedy, action? I need something to go on here! We had soup and pasta for dinner, kind of a strange combo, I know. My mom was making my different favourite foods. Pizza probably would have been the best option, but she wanted to cook something proper I think!**

You clicked send, and then realised that you had yet to save his number. You created a new contact, and added the number and a first name. You usually included a surname in your address book, but then realised you didn’t actually know his. You didn’t recall him mentioning it earlier.

_Oh well._

You readjusted your position. You sat up and dragged yourself backwards across the bed so that your back rested on the headboard. Finding it slightly too hard, you stacked some pillows behind you to cushion you. When you held your phone in front of you again you could now see your dark reflection in the TV that stood at the end of your bed.

Your phone buzzed again, and this time you saw a message from Clint and an attached image. When it loaded, you had to turn your phone sideways to clearly make out what it was. Clint had sent you a picture of a bookcase full of DVDs, all displaying their titles upon their spine.

_A DVD man? Interesting. Most people just stuck with Netflix nowadays._

It was accompanied by a text:

**Anything from here, I’m an old-fashioned, hard copy kind of guy.**

You began examining the list of movies in the picture, looking for something to recommend. It would suck if you didn’t have similar taste in movies. Luckily, this did not seem to be the case. While you did not know all the movies there, and there were a few you knew but didn’t like, you liked most of the ones he owned.

Out of curiousity, you picked up your remote off the bedside table and turned on your own TV. You clicked into Netflix and waited for it to log you in. When it was all ready, you clicked the search button and began to type. Having found what you were looking for, you exchanged the remote for your phone and replied to Clint.

**Go for Step Brothers. I have it here too on my Netflix. We can watch together?**

The eager response came soon enough:

**Yeah! I like the sound of that! Okay, fast forward to the moment the first credit appears onscreen and then pause. Then how about we keep an eye on the clock, and in two minutes as soon as it turns 6:08 we hit play?**

**It’s a plan! Getting ready to count down!**

You grabbed the remote in your other hand, your thumb lingering over the play button. Still keeping your phone held aloft to your face, you watched the little digits in the corner shift to 6:07, and then as soon as you registered the shift to 6:08pm, you hit play.

The movie started instantly, and your phone buzzed a second later: **Done?!**

You smiled and confirmed. **Done!**

**Man… I haven’t seen this movie in ages.**

Reading his message, you tried to remember the last time you had seen it. And also the last time you had run to your room with your phone like a teenage girl so you could put all your attention on texting a boy. While you couldn’t remember the last time you had had a crush that made you, a grown ass woman, act like this, you did remember the last time you had watched Step Brothers.

**I think I watched it last Christmas, I had come home for a few days for the holidays, and my brother and I turned it on. It’s a movie we can always agree on!**

**You never mentioned a brother! Older or younger?**

**Younger. What about you, any siblings?**

**I have an older brother, but we don’t talk.**

You bit your lip. Shit. You hadn’t meant to drudge up any bad memories or be intrusive. Your phone vibrated again, now twice in a row. Clint must have realised that would have made you feel awkward, so he had sent another text.

**Sorry, bit heavy to just drop on the first few minutes of a text conversation… What other movies do you like? What’s your favourite, or is it Step Brothers?**

**No, it’s not Step Brothers.** You told him your favourite movie. **What about you? What’s yours?**

**Probably Lord of the Rings… And no, not because of Legolas!**

Your nose crinkled slightly in confusion. You didn’t really understand the reference. **I don’t get it…**

**Oh, sorry, because of the archery!**

_Ah, that made sense._ You shook your head, feeling a bit silly for forgetting about his hobby. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t listen to him.

**Sorry, Clint. Had a bit of a blank moment! I guess all the running today tired me out a bit more than I thought! That archery-paint thing sounded super cool though. Any pictures of the finished canvasses to show me?**

**I can send them to you tomorrow, they’re in the barn and it’s a bit dark at the moment to trek through the field!**

_A barn?_

**Oh, do you live on a farm? And no worries, I had just thought it was closer by!**

**Yeah, only a small one. It’s a bit of a fixer upper, but I like projects. It seemed like fun to do.**

**That’s sounds lovely! Do you have any animals?**

**Only Lucky and some chickens. I get called away on business randomly, and it would be unfair to have my neighbour take care of a lots of animals while I’m gone. You’re welcome to come over sometime and see!**

**I may just take you up on that! What kind of work do you do?**

You waited for an instant reply, but none came. You frowned slightly, a bit disappointed. You had been enjoying the quick flow of the conversation. Maybe he’d gone to the bathroom or something? After a bit longer you set down the phone, screen up and gave your full attention to the movie. Every so often you glanced at the phone, checking to see if maybe you hadn’t heard or felt a notification come through. You didn’t want to harass him by texting again, so you simply continued to wait, slightly confused.

Why such a long pause?

The reply finally came fifteen minutes later, and you practically dived for the phone. You dragged it up to your face and read the message.

**IT consulting.**

It said nothing else. You were a little disappointed, wondering if you had said something wrong. Thankfully, another message came through straight after.

 **It** **means I get too work from home a lot because I can do a lot of work online, b** **ut sometimes I have to take off to meet clients! How about you! I don’t think you ever told me what you did earlier? Also sorry for the delayed response, I was getting some dinner myself! I probably should have told you I’d be gone for a few.**

Not going to be one of those girls who waits longer than the guy to reply, you immediately answered him. You weren’t really afraid it would look desperate, you were just keen to talk to him, and he didn’t seem like the type to make judgements like that. Though you would lie a little bit to make it seem like you hadn’t been waiting for a reply like a dog waits for their owner to come home.

**It’s no bother! I was pretty engrossed with the movie! IT consulting sounds so interesting! I was wondering what you worked at if you owned a farm but then had to randomly take off on trips. I worked in marketing for a big multinational company, but sadly they took a few losses and had to cut down of staff. I was relatively new, so one of the first to go.**

**That sucks. But it’s their loss. And maybe this is a bit forward and a bit earlier to say, but if there’s a chance it makes you feel in any way better than I will… I’m glad you came back here. I doubt we would have met if you hadn’t, and while I’ve only known you for a few hours I can honestly say that would suck.**

_Wow… That was really sweet._ His words made you feel about a thousand times better. Suddenly you remembered words you had heard long ago, words someone may have simply said to you, or words that may have been part of a song, you couldn’t remember for sure. “ _When one door closes another one opens…”_ Maybe that was the mentality you needed to have. Maybe it had all happened for a reason, and maybe it would lead you to greater things?

**I think I really needed to hear someone say something like that. Thank you. You’ve made me feel a lot better right now. I… I really appreciate that Clint. (And that coats needs to be dry cleaned quick so I can see you again!)**

**It should be done by tomorrow, so fingers crossed! Any ideas on where you’d like me to drop it off to you? We could go for coffee in the diner? Or even some corny shit like milkshakes? Maybe have some sandwiches? And then see where the day take us? I would have suggested dinner but the only non-fast food restaurant in town is booked up for another two weeks.**

You grinned widely, imagining yourself and Clint in the diner, sipping strawberry milkshakes from swirling red and white straws. It was cute to know he was secure enough in his masculinity to do that. A few of your idiot ex-boyfriends probably would have thrown a fit at the very suggestion of that. It was a very old fashioned date and you liked the sound of it immensely.

**Milkshakes and coffee sounds perfect! I’m really looking forward to it! Heck, even if the jacket isn’t ready then I want to go anyways… Also, out of curiosity, how do you know the restaurant is full for another two weeks?**

**Because I rang them literally as soon as you drove out of that car park.**

_Wow. He was definitely keen. You didn’t think you’d met a guy like this before, one so open to letting you know what he wanted. It was seriously attractive not to have to play guessing games._

You typed out a few responses, continually erasing them all. You weren’t really sure what to say in response. Eventually you had to settle for the kind of lame: **Well, you’re definitely driven. I’ll give you that.**

**Is that a bad thing?**

**Maybe, maybe not…**

**Tease.**

You had to cackle at that. At least he knew you were just messing around.

You continued talking through the evening, barely even watching the movie. Once it ended you didn’t bother putting on something else, or even taking the time to turn off the TV. You just sat in your bed, back resting against the headboard and continued to text Clint.

There was a knock on your door as your mom came to say goodnight (and you knew also to check in on what you were doing/if you were still texting the man in question). She smiled when she saw the phone in your hands, and gave you a conspiratory wink.

“Your father has been asking who you’re so keen on texting,” she whispered. “I told him you could tell him.”

“Ah, the Inquisition approaches,” you groaned softly.

“Oh, he’s not that bad. We all know his bark is worse than his bite!”

“Goodnight, mom,” you said a little forcefully. The phone had vibrated in your clasped hands but you wanted her gone before you checked the message. It wasn’t like it was going to be inappropriate, but you didn’t want her coming in and wanting to see what it said.

“Be sure to ask for a picture of him,” she told you and you knew she was not joking. “I want to see what he looks like.”

“I can’t just ask him that! I only met him today! Leave, now,” you waved at her in exasperation. “Crazy lady.”

She blew you a kiss, and then quietly left the room and shut the door behind her. You sighed as you settled back down in the bed, pulling the duvet covers up a bit higher. It had gotten fairly cold now that night had properly fallen. You replied to Clint once more, giggling at some little stupid joke that you made.

Eventually, it grew later and you found yourself yawning fairly frequently. Glancing at the clock on your beside table, you noticed to your shock that it was 1am. The time had literally flown past. You had been sitting in your bed texting Clint for a solid five hours! By your standards it wasn’t super late, but the physical activity and excitement of the day must have worn you out, since your eyes were beginning to drift close with tiredness.

When you felt like you couldn’t keep them open anymore, you finally said goodnight to Clint.

**I am genuinely falling asleep here. I think I better hit the hay… Have a good night, hopefully talk to you soon! Give Lucky a kiss for me!**

The reply came a few minutes later. You blearily lifted the phone from the nightstand and read: **Sleep well, _____. Once more, it was amazing to meet you. Looking forward to seeing you as soon as humanly possible.**

You smiled and turned it off, immediately drifting into an exhausted sleep.

Next morning, you awoke to soft sunlight streaming in past the curtains you had forgot to draw. You had definitely been all wrapped up in talking to Clint. As the room was filled with light you had no problem immediately noting the time on your beside clock. 12:37pm. Wow, you had slept in pretty late. It wasn’t normal, even considering that you stayed up a bit late.

You hoped you weren’t getting sick or anything. That would kind of suck, seeing as most likely you were going for coffee and/or milkshakes with Clint tomorrow. However, you didn’t feel like you were coming down with anything and felt that you could chalk it up to being exhausted from the sudden turn your life had taken yesterday.

You pondered that over your breakfast, the strange timing of it all. Throwing the coin into the well, wishing for happiness and luck, and then having Luck come careering at you with his handsome owner following. Weird was an understatement.

You weren’t exactly sure if you should text Clint or just wait for him to get back to you with news of the jacket. Heck, it wasn’t like you even cared about the jacket anymore. Whether or not it was ready you were set on meeting up with Clint tomorrow.

You didn’t have to wait long, around 2:30pm, when you were sitting on the sofa in your pyjamas eating cereal you got a text.

**Jacket’s all done. Guess the extra twenty I slipped them to hurry it along worked!**

_Oh God, had he really tipped them to hurry it up? This man was really something else._

**…It might have been ready even if you hadn’t slipped them the extra twenty? This is a small town, Clint, I doubt they’re that busy.**

**Ah well, we’ll never know for sure now! So, the diner tomorrow. Are we still good to go?**

**Yes, I’m still up for it if you are!**

**My mind didn’t change in a few hours. I am a lot of things, _____, but fickle is not one of them.**

So the day passed the same way that the night did before. You weren’t up to anything today except for watching Friends reruns, so once again you simply texted Clint all day. The conversation varied covering places you had been, places you wanted to go, dogs, cats, baseball games and so on. Clint informed you he has actually pretty good at baseball. You told him it was not your best sport, and he offered to give you a lesson “if you wanted to sometime.” You readily agreed, not even considering the possibility that your date might not go well and you might not want to.

As you were walking into the kitchen for dinner your phone chimed again. Since you weren’t yet at the table, you took the opportunity to bend the rules a little and read it. It was a multimedia message this time, something you hadn’t seen in years as unlike everyone else Clint did not use Whatsapp or have a Facebook. (You knew that for a fact, you had done some extreme stalking through-out your quiet day.)

A grin broke out on your face as you opened it. Clint had sent picture of Lucky wearing a pair of devil horns, something he had got him from the Halloween store. At first you only saw Lucky, but then you noticed the mirror in the background of the picture. Clint had managed to include himself in the shot and you were 10000% sure it was on purpose because no one looked that good when not trying to pose.

Not willing to give him the satisfaction, you simply texted back and pretended you hadn’t seen it.

**My lovely handsome boy, Lucky you look so cute!**

Then you chortled, and showed the picture to your mom so she would stop bugging you about what he looked like. She gave you an approving nod and gushed over how handsome he was for a few minutes, before your dad came into the room and she stopped. It’s difficult to gush about guys when an indignant man is in the room.

In the evening, after dinner, you retreated back into your room. This time it was for a very significant purpose. To pick out a cute outfit for tomorrow. Since a lot of your clothes were still in suitcases, soon your stuff was thrown over the room. When your mom came in to give you a cup of tea she commented on how it was like a hoarder’s lair.

After repeated posing in-front of the mirror in a variety of different outfits, you finally settled on one that you thought was super cute and perfect. A fitted black long-sleeved top over matching black skinny jeans, with a long gold necklace. It was perfected by a long, wine red knitted cardigan and tan boots with knit socks peeping out over the top of them. It was cute, but appropriate for fall weather. You didn’t want to be freezing in the diner if it wasn’t properly heated.

You decided to go to bed early that night, wanting sleep so you’d be your best self for the next day. You had concealer, but you wanted to avoid rings under your eyes if possible. You agreed to meet at 1pm at the diner in the local town. After bidding Clint goodnight, you set your alarm for 10am. It was probably a bit early seeing as the town was only a fifteen minute drive, but you wanted the additional time to do your make-up in case it was one of those days where it just doesn’t come out right. It was always _one of those days_ when it was most inconvenient to be.

Sleep was a bit harder to come by that night, probably because you weren’t exhausted due to a full day of doing absolutely nothing. Eventually, after counting virtual sheep jumping a gate in your head, you finally managed to drift off into a somewhat restless slumber.

You woke up before your alarm, but you were so excited that you knew even if you tried you would not be able to fall back asleep. Instead, you got up, took a shower, and began to blow-dry and style your hair. After that you wandered down to the kitchen and got yourself a bowl of cereal. You had put your warm fuzzy dressing gown and slippers back on for comfort’s sake, and it was not too cold, so you opened the back door and stepped out to eat breakfast on the patio.

It was a quiet morning, being Tuesday in a rural area, and you didn’t see any cars pass along the road at the end of the field that was your parent’s front garden. Ignoring the cobwebs you could see poking out from under the seat, you sat down on the deck chair, placing your bowl of cheerios and cup of tea on the wooden table in-front of you. It was slightly nippy outside, but not too cold that you didn’t want to be outside. The air was more fresh and crisp than anything else.

You spooned a mouthful of cereal into your mouth, crunching down contentedly, and lifted your phone from your pocket. Your elbow rested on the table in-front of you as you held it up to your face, unlocking it. Scrolling through your Facebook newsfeed, you noted that one of your friends from back home had gotten engaged. You weren’t perturbed that she hadn’t told you herself though, you were only really friends due to work. She had been an accountant in the same firm as you, and let go too in the budget cut, but didn’t have to move away as her doctor boyfriend’s-now-husband’s job had helped keep her afloat while she job searched.

You liked the picture, and then stared at your phone. You were debating texting him. After a few seconds you shrugged. He wasn’t going to not reply… Was he? Shaking off the insecurity, you typed out a message and hit send before you could worry yourself out of it.

**Hey! Still good for 1pm?**

There was no right away response, so you figured maybe he hadn’t gotten up yet. Not particularly worried, you wandered back into the kitchen and washed your bowl, though you made yourself another cup of tea. The crinkle of paper behind startled you and you turned around to see your father at the kitchen table. You hadn’t noticed him.

“Mom says you’re going to meet a man-friend today.”

“A man-friend?” you scoffed, leaning back against the counter.

“I don’t know what to call it,” he waved a hand dismissively. “Have fun.”

You hadn’t really expected that. You weren’t really sure what you had expected from him, but it wasn’t that.

The shock showed in your voice when you responded. “Um… Thanks?”

You pushed yourself off the counter, heading towards the hallway to go back to your room and start preparing to go out. He interrupted you before you reached the door.

“You can tell me these things, you know. I’m not some over-protective dad. Plus… I want to know what’s going on in your life. You moved out so young… Off to college at seventeen. I never really knew what was happening afterwards.”

Guilt flooded through you. “Awh, dad…” You returned into the room, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting across from him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just an awkward thing to tell your dad about. Boys… Do you want to know a bit?”

He nodded, a small smile gracing his features. He looked pleased, and placed the newspaper down flat on the table, before clasping his hands and giving you his full attention.

“Right,” you searched your mind for all the things he would approve off. “His name is Clint. I met him when I went to the park the day before yesterday. His dog ran away from him and knocked me down and he helped me to my feet and asked was I alright. We ended up talking for a bit, for the rest of my time at the park and he walked me to my car. He’s really nice… He’s in IT consulting. He does archery and we’re going to go for coffee and milkshakes today at Tom’s diner in town. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“What does he look like?”

“I have a picture,” you dug your phone out again to see the light flashing at the top of it. You had a message. Opening it you saw it was from Clint, you hadn’t heard it as you’d forgotten to take your phone off silent this morning. You didn’t open it just yet, instead simply went onto your picture gallery and showed your dad the picture of Lucky, though you had zoomed in on Clint.

“Bit blurry,” your dad frowned. “What kind of IT guy has a phone with a camera like that?”

You laughed, brushing off the comment. Standing up, you smiled at him. “I’m going to go and get ready now. Your coffee looks like it’s getting cold by the way.”

Immediately he reached for the cup and took a swig. His face contorted in disgust and you chuckled again as you left the room and went upstairs. You took the make-up bag off on of the shelves in your bedroom and plonked yourself down on the bed to sort through what you would use and not use. You wanted your eyes and lips to pop, but you didn’t really want to be caked in make-up. It might cause you to break out, which would suck if further dates lay in store after today, and when you had met him he had been fine with your make-up-less face.

When you had it sorted you took your little mirror down, sat back against the headboard, an started to work on your face. You decided just to focus on eyes, as you were having a good skin day. After doing a light eye-shadow and winged eyeliner, you were applying the final touches to your lashes with the mascara wand. Your phone buzzed, and you almost poked your eye out in surprise.

It was Clint.

_Oh shit. I never opened his earlier message._

The first one read **: Yeah, I’m pumped for today! How about you, does it still work for you?**

The new one just said: **_____?**

You responded right away. **Sorry! Sorry! Yes, it still most definitely works for me. I’m just getting ready now.**

It was around 11am at this stage, another two hours yet to go.

**Awesome! I may head out a bit earlier to make sure we get a booth. It’s not usually crowded but I want to be sure.**

_God. That was really sweet_.

You smiled and put your phone down to go and change into your date outfit.

 

***

It was a fact. Clint Barton did not get a lot of dates.

Obviously when he was younger nobody wanted to go near the “dirty carnival kid.” Though he wasn’t actually dirty, however. He had showered daily. He was just always bruised and black-eyed, but people twisted that how they wanted to. But that’s beside the point.

Some girls may have dated him, but those usually weren’t the kind of girls he wanted to date. They were either rough and thought he was rough too, or occasionally he had been approached by some pretty, posh girls who were only really looking to rebel against their parents. Even under all the bruises and black-eyes they could see he was handsome enough so they weren’t completely repulsed by him. Neither of that really appealed to him, so he faded into the background and stayed away.

When he’d gotten his life together and joined SHIELD, he just hadn’t had time. He had had one night stands, that was no lie, but he hadn’t really been in anything long term. He knew he would have to leave for missions, and there was no point in getting attached. He was good at that, restraining his emotions. Years of being looked down upon and being told you’re nothing but trailer trash, and you’d learn not to cry too.

And then Loki and his sceptre had happened. And Clint had been brainwashed. The PTSD he had experienced after… It was the most awful thing he ever thought his mind could put him through. The memories… It was too much. He had become unstable, likely to snap. The nightmares came every night. Fury had brought in an expert psychologist, obviously feeling some unnecessary guilt that his commands had put Clint in the position for Loki to take over his mind.

The therapist sat in a few sessions with Clint, and then cast his recommendation. Clint needed to get away from it for a bit. The city, SHIELD, everything. If he was to heal he needed peace and quiet. Fury immediately put him on paid leave, and then he was gone.

Unknown to everyone else but Fury and Natasha, Clint had enough saved up for a house and he had his eye on one for a while.

An old farmhouse out in the Pennslyvania countryside. It was a town that the carnival had visited when he was younger, and he had fallen in-love with it. It was quiet, scenic, beautiful. People walked their dogs on the clean streets and waved to their neighbours. The townsfolk were some of the kindest he had come across. The children had even played with him.

The old farmhouse he had stumbled across one day when out wandering the fields near the carnival site as a child. It had been abandoned then too, but was not completely derelict. It would take work, but it definitely wasn’t a lost cause. Kind of like him.

He climbed up the creaking wood steps, careful to keep an eye out for rotted wooden boards. He didn’t want to snap his ankle in a place like this, where no one would hear him calling out for help. He made it into the house, and wandered through the rooms. Curtains hung in tatters, and there was no glass in the windows. The walls had holes in some places, and you couldn’t really venture upstairs as the roof had caved in.

He resolved to make it his one day.

So when he was told to go somewhere calm and quiet, Clint knew where he was headed. He contacted the local estate agents, but they told him the land had been auctioned off a while back. So eventually he had chased down the buyer, who had wanted to knock the farmhouse down and build a new, modern development on top. Clint managed to talk him out of it, and bought back the house and some of the land. And it was done, the place was his.

He went to look, and it had been worse than he remembered. Knowing he could not do it all himself, he hired a team of builders to make it liveable once more. He and Lucky lived in a trailer by the house at that time, not willing to go anywhere else. After a few months, it was done. Clint dismissed the builders, and gave it the finishing touches himself. When he was done, he went to sleep on a mattress in the living room, in-front of the lit fireplace as it was October and the heating had not been properly installed just yet.

That was the first night that Clint did not have a nightmare.

At first it was just him and Lucky, as it always had been. They ate, played, and ran together. Lucky slept at the end of Clint’s bed, but after a year something began to nag at Clint. He felt like it was too quiet, so at loss of anything better to do, he went out and bought some hens. That worked for a while, but the desire to have something else around lingered still.

It took him another few months before he fully understood. He was watching cable, flicking through the channels. His nerves still weren’t great, so he bypassed a channel playing a horror movie, and next landed on a romance movie. With nothing better on, he figured it would be soothing to just fall asleep to. However, he ended up watching it through heavy lidded eyes. As he sunk off into sleep, he finally understood why he was so desperate for something, no, someone else to be around. He was lonely.

He began to go into the town more, hoping to meet someone. He went on a few dates with one girl, but then they decided there was no real spark between them, and that they were maybe better off just as friends. They had parted without so much as a kiss. He did not really find anyone else in the town, it was mostly families and older people who lived there. Single, younger people usually left for the opportunities provided by the city.

He had then tried online dating, something he would never ever admit, mostly in-case it got back to Tony Stark, who would tease him relentlessly. He got cat-fished the first time. Luckily he had never sent any incriminating pictures, but it was still enough to put him off internet dating for life.

It had gone on like that, until two days beforehand. He had been at the park, same as he did nearly every single day. He had been headed to the green area, hidden away from the main one. He wanted Lucky to be able to run free without worrying about him mowing down a child like a freight train.

On his way, he had passed the well he had walked past many times before. He had never looked at it properly before, but that day he did. Old and ordinary. There appeared to be nothing special about it. But old Tom at the diner had told him wishes there sometimes came through. Clint stared at it, biting his lip as he debated it.

Figuring that there was no point in not trying, he fished a coin out of his pocket and stepped forward. He balanced it on his thumb, which was resting lightly on his index finger. He flicked it into the air, watching it spin, glinting, before it plummeted down into the well. He leaned over just in time to catch a flash before it disappeared from his sight forever. It was followed by a small splash. Clint sighed, and closed his eyes.

_I just… I just wanna find someone. The one, if such thing exists. God, that sounds corny. Right. Let’s start over. I want to find someone who would be right for me. I don’t wanna be alone anymore. If they could come along as soon as possible, like in the next thirty minutes, that would be great._

Out of curiosity, he checked his wrist-watch. 1:28pm. Shrugging it off, he bopped the impatient Lucky gently on the nose with a stick he’d picked up while walking, and set off for the green area once again. There they played, though Clint found himself occasionally checking his watch. Time passed, and nothing happened. Just Clint and Lucky.

It wasn’t really like he had expected his wish to come true, but hey, it would have been nice. Plus, he had just wasted a quarter. He glanced at his watch a final time at 1:55pm. Nope. Nothing was going to happen in three minutes. He threw Lucky’s stick a bit harder than normal.

Lucky started after it, and then stopped dead in his tracks.

“Luck?” Clint had asked.

The dog whirled around, and shot away like a bullet. He was running the opposite way to the stick, pelting across the ground. Clint could see him tearing up grass as he ran at full speed, rapidly approaching disappearing from sight.

“Shit!” Clint exclaimed, wishing-well forgotten as he tore after his dog.

He ran into the trees, and down the lane. He only caught glimpses of Lucky zipping around corners in-front of him, but he could track him easily by the dog’s loud, excited barking. Clint had been yelling, but Lucky paid no heed and Clint had to focus on breathing, so he stopped shouting out quickly enough. That was, until Lucky’s barking ceased and Clint could see him no more.

“Lucky! LUCKY! Where are you?” he roared, rounding a corner.

He could see him up ahead, brown mass of jumping fur. He continued up the road, slowing down a fractionas Lucky didn’t seem keen on going anywhere. As he grew closer, he could hear soft murmured words and… Giggling? A girl’s voice?

Suddenly he could see someone, half-hidden behind his dog’s bulk. He stared, brow furrowing, and suddenly the person leaned around Lucky and bright, curious eyes met his. His pace slowed a bit more until he was jogging.

That’s when his sharp eyes noted tousled hair and the muddy jacket. “Oh God, did he completely stampede you?”

The girl followed his gaze, and seemed amused instead of angry upon seeing the mud.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” she had said kindly, something Clint appreciated.

Her face was sincere, her eyes were kind. As he leaned out to clip Lucky’s lead back onto his collar, he snuck a glance at his watch. Just in time, he saw the digits switch from 1:58pm to 1:59pm, and felt a slight chill run through him.

She was nice, she was so nice. He had asked her to spend some time with him at that park as he didn’t want her to walk away then. He found he enjoyed her company immensely. She made him laugh, something he hadn’t properly done in a while. He asked her to see him again, and she agreed. He liked to think that she had been excited over the idea.

But Clint Barton did not get a lot of dates, so he wanted to do this right.

As soon as she left he rang the only fancy restaurant in the town, but they were full. There was nothing he could say or do to get a table. He was frustrated when he hung up. He had wanted it to be special. He had wanted to be the kind of guy that takes girls to a nice restaurant with candles and tablecloths and pays for their meals. Unfortunately, that was not in the cards for this date.

He didn’t tell her, as it may have seemed a bit full of himself or creepy, but he made a reservation for the first open slot in two weeks, just in case. If things didn’t go well it wasn’t a big deal to just cancel it.

With a town so small, there weren’t many options. So he prayed for luck, and suggested the diner to her, hoping that she wouldn’t think it was lame. He liked the idea of milkshakes and coffee, and simply getting to talk to her. The weight that lifted off his chest when she said it sounded great was shocking. He hadn’t realised he had been so worried about it. And his heart gave a little lurch when she said she would want to go even if the jacket wasn’t ready.

Clint Barton didn’t get a lot of dates, which was why he showed up to the diner forty-five minutes early in order to guarantee a booth. Of course it was practically empty, and he felt like a bit of a fool. He wasn’t trying to be weird. He just wanted it to go well. It was better to be safe than sorry.

So he sat at the table, texting you, and pretending he wasn’t leaving his house for another ten minutes. He had let on that he was going slightly early, but not as early as he had in-fact gone.

Clint Barton didn’t get a lot of dates, but he felt that even if he did, this one would still be different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I know they didn't really interact face-to-face in this chapter. I had wanted it to include their date, but it was just growing so long and the date is gonna be a looooog one so I figured I would split them into two to make it more readable! I hope you enjoyed anyhow, dearies!
> 
> **EDIT** small chance but if anyone clicked into this right after I uploaded, the paste function for some reason cute off around the IT consulting part, and not all the chapter was uploaded. If you read down the Clint-orientated part at the bottom you have read it all :)


	3. Coffee and/or Milkshake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of laughing in disbelief to myself, as at the start I told you guys this fic was only going to be five or six chapters long. Just a short bit of fluff. This is still true, well, most likely it'll be around seven or eight chapter now. But the thing is, this has the potential to be the same word length as some of my other fics. This chapter is around 13.000 words, which is the longest chapter I have EVER written. So at present, this fic stands at around 30,000 words. That's around half the length of my Bucky Barnes fic, which has like around 60,000 words if memory serves. 
> 
> Never let it be said that Clint Barton is not my absolute fav, and I will always try to remedy the MCU's butchering of him. Once again, I write Clint as I see him (because let's face it, the MCU never give the character much screentime to show his personality). My Clint is a mixture of the MCU's, combined with Matt Fraction's Hawkeye comics. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, anyhow! Let me know if you liked their date! Comments brighten my day (and today it's very rainy in Ireland).
> 
> Also short end note, but my exams start on Wednesday and continue for around two weeks, so not a whole lot will be updated. I however have most of a Christmas themed 'Avengers x Reader' fic written, and if I'm honest Clint is pretty much the star of it. So if you wanna read, keep your eyes peeled on the 23rd/24th! Thanks everyone!

**CHAPTER THREE**

You were all ready by 12:30pm, and so you decided simply to go to the diner now. You always liked to be five minutes early to meet-ups anyhow, as it was just polite. You’d be a bit earlier than 12:55, but you were sure he wouldn’t care. Clint had told you he was leaving now, so if you left too you would be there pretty much around the same time.

You trotted downstairs, the sound of your boots somewhat muffled by the carpet underfoot. You wandered through the living room into the kitchen, where both your parents were having lunch. Smiling at them, you plucked your black handbag off the counter and put your arm through the strap, lifting it to rest on your shoulder.

“Have fun,” your mom chimed as you snatched your car keys up off the counter.

Your dad was munching on a mouthful of sandwich, and just nodded vigorously instead of talking.

“Thanks, I’ll catch you guys later,” you waved goodbye over your shoulder as you headed out the door.

Closing the front door behind you, you took a breath of the crisp air once more. You headed down the patio steps and down onto the path. Leaves crunched underfoot as you headed towards your car. You hit the button on your keys, and lights flashed as it unlocked. You patted the grey bonnet affectionately, before opening the door and sliding into its interior. Starting the car, you had to do a three point turn before you could start driving down the lane to the front gate.

You came to a stop and peered out, making sure there were no cars. There were none in sight, so you peeled out and away, driving down the lane. Your phone chimed, and drawn to the noise you glanced down. That was your mistake.

It was only for a second, but when you looked up you saw the pothole straight in-front of you. It was wide and deep, and avoidable. You tried to swerve, but your tyre still caught the side of it. There was a loud bang, followed by a hiss and your car shuddered heavily as it scraped across the ground, emitting a loud screech.

You knew the tyre had burst, as the car swung to the side, propelled along by the remaining one. Desperately you yanked on the wheel, trying keep yourself straight. You didn’t want to find yourself either in the ditch, or across the middle of the road. The steering wheel was uncharacteristically stiff to move as you pulled at it. Your foot slammed on the brakes and after a few terrifying seconds the car lurched to a halt.

You sat there, unmoving, and breathed in shakily, before shoving open the door and stepping out. Holding onto the side of the car from support as your legs were trembling due to the mix of adrenaline and fear, you walked around the car to inspect the damage. It was as you had suspected in that awful moment, the tyre had indeed burst. You were lucky it hadn’t been worse.

You heard a yell, and looked back to see your parents hurrying out of the house. You were only just a bit down the road outside of their driveway. They had probably seen the whole thing from the kitchen window.

“Are you hurt?” your mother asked as she neared you.

Your dad reached you first, his eyes running over you anxiously to check that you were unharmed.

“A little freaked,” you admitted. There was a slight tremor in your voice. “But no damage done.”

“That damn pothole,” your father grumbled, leaning down to inspect the damage. “It’s the same one that got your brother a few years ago. When he busted the suspension.”

“We need to say it to the town hall again,” your mother tutted. “We asked them to fill it in before and they never did. We should have kept pushing. Oh, sweetie, are you okay?”

You had leaned back against the car and closed your eyes, breathing deeply. It wasn’t too bad, but you had gotten a serious fright when the car skidded and you had momentarily lost control. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m good.”

“I’ll call Rich and see if he can come with his tow-truck to get the car off the road,” your dad headed back towards the house.

“And I’ll ring the town council to complain. If you had hit the ditch, or God forbid, if another car had been passing by it could have been much worse,” your mother followed him.

You started after them, and then realised something and groaned. “I have to call Clint to cancel. I don’t have a way to town.”

“If you give me a bit, maybe I can drive you,” your mom smiled. “But better tell him you’ll be late.”

 

***

It was around 12:50pm when his phone vibrated, buzzing against the hard table-top in-front of him. He checked the caller ID and frowned. You were meant to be already on your way by now… You’d texted him ten minutes previously to say that you were heading out. Unless…

Were you calling to cancel? That would suck. And probably crush his already-pretty-low-in-general self-esteem.

However, he couldn’t just ignore it. He knew this, but he continued to stare apprehensively at the screen. After a few seconds he sighed in defeat and answered the call.

“Hello?” he sounded glum even to his ears.

“Hi Clint. It’s _____,” your voice came.

He frowned. Was it just him or did you sound a little… Shaky? Suddenly he wondered if you were not calling to bail on him.

“_____, is everything okay?” he asked concernedly.

“I’m alright, but I had a bit of an accident on the way over. I hit a pothole and it burst my tyre. Nothing happened… I mean the car swerved and I lost control for a second, but I managed to stop it.”

“Christ, are you alright?!” he exclaimed, his earlier worries now forgotten, replaced by a simple concern to see if you were okay.

“Yeah, well I’m a bit shaken but no injuries,” you chuckled but it seemed forced.

“If you need to cancel, that’s fine,” he found himself saying, slightly dishonestly. It wasn’t fine, because he would have loved to see you but he understood if you were no longer in the mood.

“No!” you said forcefully.

His eyes opened a bit in surprise at the strong tone suddenly colouring your voice. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I was just calling to tell you I may be a bit late, but most likely can come. My mom said she could drop me, but I don’t know how long she’ll take screaming at the town council representative down the phone.”

Clint bit his lip for a moment, debating whether or not to say what he was going to next. _What the heck,_ he figured. _You seemed to want to see him too._

Do you…” He had to clear his throat before continuing. “Do you want me to come and pick you up?”

There was a moment of silence over the phone as you contemplated his offer. He cringed a bit when you didn’t answer right away, wondering if you’d refuse.

“Trying to find out where I live, huh?” you teased, though he could tell you were slightly surprised his offer.

“Just trying to be a gentleman,” he retorted, smirking a little bit. “So, am I coming to get you?”

“Sure,” he could hear the small in your voice. “That’s so nice of you, thank you.”

“Alright, see you soon,” he grinned.

“See you,” you agreed.

He took the phone from his ear and hit the ‘end call’ button. He stared down at the now displayed home-screen, smiling to himself. He shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed his jacket from where it rested on the booth seat next to him and made to stand up before a thought occurred to him.

Grimacing to himself because of what a train wreck he was, he retrieved the phone from his pocket once more and dialled your number. You were laughing when you answered.

“Hi, I just realised that I-,” he started.

“Never got directions to where I live,” you finished.

 

***

“You don’t have to worry about dropping me,” you told your mom as you strode into the kitchen. “Clint said he would come pick me up.”

“Are you sure?” she mouthed, covering the bottom of the phone with her hand so that whoever she was on the phone to wouldn’t hear.

“Yes, he’s already on his way.”

She nodded and then turned her attention back to the phone call. You could hear her voice, stern, as she spoke firmly to whoever was on the line. _Some council rep_ , you figured.

You headed outside and looked out, down onto the road below. Your dad’s buddy lived nearby and owned a tow-truck, and had come over almost as soon as he was called. Your dad was down on the road helping and directing him as he loaded the car onto the back. He had even offered to take it to the mechanic for you, and so your dad was going to go with him so you were free to go on your date.

You shouted down and asked if they wanted a hand, but they said that they were alright and waved you off. With nothing else to do, you sat down on the porch swing, nestling in amongst the cushions, and waited for Clint. You didn’t know what his car looked like, so on the few occasions one passed by you felt yourself perk up, only to deflate slightly when it passed the house by, However, you didn’t have to wait long.

A car appeared, not really visible apart from flashes of light reflecting off of it as it travelled down the road. It appeared just as your dad climbed into the passenger seat beside Rich and closed the door. Noting the truck in-front of it, the car slowed until it was almost crawling along. You squinted at it, and you were able to see it was a big car, some kind of jeep, instead of a normal vehicle. The tow-truck rumbled to life, passing the jeep by. Lights flashed as the jeep indicated left, into your driveway and you felt your nerves flare up again.

You stood up as the jeep, or rather the Range Rover as you now could it was began to drive up the small lane towards you. You straightened your long knit cardigan and you brushed your hands down your jeans nervously, making sure you had no dust or dirt on you. The Range Rover halted in-front of you, and through the windscreen you could make out slightly spiky hair and a beaming smile. Next second the door opened, and Clint stepped smoothly out.

He had sunglasses on, and even though they masked his eyes they really only served to make him hotter. He gave you a slow smirk and began to walk towards you. You noted a bit of swagger in his step. He could obviously see the appreciation on your face when you looked at him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you responded, slightly shy all of a sudden.

“Was that your car going down the street? On the tow-truck?”

“Yeah, my dad and his friend are taking it to a garage to get fixed.”

“Well at least now I have proof that you weren’t just looking for an excuse to cancel,” he joked slyly.

“Maybe I was, maybe I ran into the pothole purposely,” you retorted with a grin.

However, he only smiled widely in response. He knew by your tone that you were only joking.

“Well, your plan failed,” he shrugged in mock defeat. “Guess you’ve just got to go out with me.”

“I guess I do,” you sighed, pulling a sad face.

He just laughed in response, and walked around to the other side of the car. “Ready to go?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for you and motioned for you to hop in.

He had actually just opened the door for you. That was so freaking cute.

“Ready to go,” you agreed. You turned and plucked your purse off the spot on the porch swing next to you, and then headed down the steps towards Clint. He reached off and swiped off his shades as you approached, looking at you with eyes that you now saw were more blue-green than steely grey. As you moved around him, he turned, shadowing the movement. You could feel your body brush against his and the warmth of his breath on the side of his face. It smelt of spearmint.

You hopped into the car, making sure the side of your cardigan was inside and then Clint closed the door. You watched him as he walked back around towards the driver’s seat, but as he was passing in-front of you something else got your attention. Your mother was watching from the window, a wry smile on her face. Clint was still walking and did not seem to notice, so you made a quick shooing motion at her with your hand, before the door opposite you opened and Clint climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Buckled up?” he asked as he slipped the shades back on over his eyes.

“Yup,” you confirmed, settling back.

The seats were cream coloured leather, and warm. He must have one of those built in seat heaters. _Go figure._

“I don’t know whether to wave to your mom or pretend I haven’t noticed her,” he told you as he leaned forward to twist the key.

The ignition roared to life.

You put your face in your hands and groaned. “I am so sorry. She’s not trying to be creepy, if it’s any consolation.”

“I don’t think it’s creepy,” he protested. “I’m going to wave at her.”

Before you could say anything else, he lifted his hand from the wheel in a short, but enthusiastic wave. A polite, earnest smile graced his features. You turned to see your mom’s reaction. She was waving back, phone still clamped to her ear, but she looked pleased. Catching your gaze, she mouthed at you to ‘have fun’ and then turned away from the window.

With that, Clint popped the car into reverse. His three point turn was a lot faster and smoother than yours, and you were away and heading down the long driveway in seconds. You reached the end of the small lane, and both of you leaned forward to check the sides of the road out your individual windows for approaching cars.

“Clear,” you told him and he smiled at you in thanks before accelerating out onto the road. “Look out, there’s a pothole,” you commented dryly, smothering a smile.

Clint chuckled. “I think a car like this would just roll over it.” He wasn’t willing to test his theory though, as he steered away to avoid the pothole after all. He threw a quick glance your way, before quickly returning his eyes to the road. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered truthfully. “I think I am. I’d prefer to go out than stay at home and freak myself out.”

He nodded understandingly. “Well I hope I can make the rest of the day good for you.”

“With that door-opening trick you already are,” you said somewhat shyly.

He smirked, but it looked a lot more pleased than it did confident. “I’m glad you liked it. If you haven’t guessed, I’m trying my best here.”

Slowly, you reached out and placed a hand on the crook of his arm. He glanced down in surprise and the steering wheel jerked slightly, causing the car to shift a little.  He straightened immediately, snapping his eyes back to the road.

“I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, his eyes flickered towards you in concern. “God, I’m sorry. Just didn’t expect that. Awh, jeez, are you okay?”

You laughed, waving a hand to dismiss the issue. “It’s alright, Clint. It was my fault for distracting you! I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on.”

To show him you meant business, you lifted yourself slightly off the seat and sliding your hands under where you were just sitting. You lowered yourself back down so your hands were now trapped underneath you. You smirked at him, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off the road. However, you by the expression on his face you got the idea that he had noted what you were doing.

Chuckling slightly, he shook his head. “You’re kinda weird.”

“Thanks. It’s all part of my charm,” your tone was prim but it was obvious you were joking. Clint didn’t answer, just shook his head once more. He still wore the smile, however. You searched for a new topic of conversation. “So, how’s Lucky?”

“Sad to not be coming to,” Clint remarked. “He howled when I left.”

“Does he usually do that?”

“Sometimes? But not too often. It was like he knew he was being left out,” he chuckled.

“Well maybe we could bring him next time,” you answered as you moved your hands back out from underneath you and folded them onto your lap. You were enjoying being in Clint’s car. The jeep was much large than your Fiat, and you were sitting at a higher level than you were used to. It almost seemed to give everything a new perspective. So focused upon the surroundings outside the car, you did not at first comprehend what you had just said until silence stretched out. “Clint? What do you say?” Twisting in your seat to face him, you froze as you realised what you had just said.

_Maybe we could bring him next time?! Jeesh, you hadn’t even been on the goddamn date yet! You didn’t even know if there was going to be a next time!_

“Sorry,” you winced. “Didn’t understand what I was saying there.” Heat burned your cheeks as your face flushed in embarrassment.

“Hey, no worries,” Clint told you softly. His voice sounded sincere, but you weren’t sure if he was just acting like he found it weird so that you wouldn’t be embarrassed. You lifted your hand and brushed it through your hair, using to manoeuvre your hair into hanging like a curtain so you wouldn’t have to look him in the face. “_____, hey! No need to get embarrassed.” You started in shock as his fingers touched your face. His eyes were still on the road, other hand still gripping the wheel, but his free had was brushing your hair back so he could see you.

A small smile broke onto your face. His voice was kind.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret then, how about that?” he laughed nervously. His hand, having completed its task, returned to the wheel. “I had already planned for a second date. Heck, you could probably even consider it a third date because it’s booked for two weeks’ time.”

“Really?” Your eyes were wide as you regarded him.

He nodded, briefly looking at you. “Yeah. The restaurant… When they said there were booked up I got the first available slot in two weeks… Just in case… Obviously no pressure though. If you decide you don’t like me after tonight I can just cancel. It’s not a big deal.”

“Wow.” You were uncertain of what else to say. “Clint… That’s really sweet. Thank you. I really hope it goes well now!” you giggled.

He was flushed as yours had been moments before. “Look, ______. I just want to make sure it’s clear that I didn’t tell you that to make you feel obligated in any way. You just seemed a bit embarrassed and I wanted to make you feel less awkward. I’m not trying to force you into doing anything.”

Before you could stop yourself, you once again reached over to his arm on the steering wheel. Rather than touch his forearm again, your hand slid upwards until it touched his. Your fingers brieflybrushed his skin affectionately, before retreating. “I know. Thank you for not wanting me to be uncomfortable though. I’m really glad I ran into you… You seem really lovely.”

“You too,” he quipped, half-smirk twisting his face. Apparently deciding the time for tenderness was over, he changed topic “So, are you feeling coffee or milkshakes?”

“Hmmm,” you said thoughtfully, settling back into your seat. “I’m not entirely sure. Maybe both? How about you?”

“I’m a coffee man, but milkshakes from Tom’s are amazing. I don’t have them too often… Hey, I wonder does a coffee milkshake exist?”

“What?” you laughed incredulously.

“A coffee flavoured milkshake. It’d be the best of both worlds.”

“If you like cold coffee,” you reminded him, raising a brow, “which no one does.”

“Iced coffee?” he reminded you, and you had to cave at his point.

“Is that not just a coffee milkshake?” you said in confusion.

“I’m not sure…” he admitted, “but I think they may be different things.”

“It could work,” you nodded thoughtfully.

“Well then. What would you say to a little experiment?” his eyes twinkled with mischievous glee.

“Tom is going to hate us if he we make a mess,” you giggled. “That being said, I’m pretty curious to see what it would be like.”

“Atta girl,” his voice was smug as you agreed to his idea.

“I’m going to Google coffee milkshakes.” You took your phone out of your jacket pocket and began to look for answers. “Okay… So it seems coffee milkshakes do exist? All I can see here is how to make your own one at home. It may be different from just pouring a cup of coffee into a milkshake at a diner.”

“I would say so,” he said dryly.

You stuck your tongue out at him, though you weren’t actually offended by the somewhat cheeky answer. The car was approaching the town now, you could see small buildings between the trees. The town was picturesque, quaint, and looked exactly the same as it had since the first time you saw it. Tom’s diner was down the main street, though considering the lack of streets it probably should be called “only street” rather than main street. All the others were only wide enough for one lane.

There was a parking spot directly across the road from the diner, so Clint pulled in there. He killed the ignition, and you twisted to take off your seatbelt. He already had thrown his off and kicked the car door open, rushing around to your side. For a moment you wondered what he was doing, until he stepped to your window and grasped the door handle, opening it for you. You couldn’t help but smile as he offered you his hand as you stepped out of the car. Sliding yours into his, he helped you down onto the curb.

“You know you don’t have to keep opening doors for me,” you smiled, but you secretly hoped he wouldn’t take your words to heart.

“I can see that you like it,” he simply replied as you both crossed the road and strode up the steps to Tom’s diner. His pace and stride increased as you reached the top, and you knew what he was at.

You lunged forward, grabbing the door handle to the diner before he could, and yanking it open. A loud bang echoed, as in your haste to be first you had slammed the door open into the wall. Customers stared as you coloured in shame. Clint’s body shook with repressed laughter. Tom had been standing directly in-front of the door. He looked somewhat angry when he heard the noise, but when he beheld you and Clint his face softened.

“______!” He strode forward and pulled you into a bear hug, which you happily returned. You had known Tom since you were a child. Your mom had often brought you and your brother here for milkshakes after you finished school. He had lost a lot of hair and was mostly bald, but his cheery grin was still the same. “I heard you were back and expected you sooner! What took you so long, girl!”

“I was moping,” you explained as you drew back, “but I missed your milkshakes immensely. I had dad pick me up a one on a few occasions.”

He looked over your shoulder, only just remembering Clint was there too. “And you! I haven’t seen you in a few days!”

Clint moved up behind you and offered Tom a hand. The diner owner shook it warmly before stepping back and taking in the sight of the two of you. There was a fond, happy look in his eyes as he beheld you both standing side by side in-front of him.

“You know,” he began, “when I met Clint I thought he’d be perfect for you. I’m not even lyin’. I didn’t say anything because you seemed to be permanently gone to the city. I’m glad to see you found each-other on your own. How long has this,” his finger pointed from you to Clint and back,” been going on?”

“We ran into each-other on Lucky Lane two days ago,” Clint laughed. “This is only our first date. Don’t make it weird, Tom!”

The man’s grin grew even wider, but he managed to smother it. “Very well. Pick whatever booth, you both know the drill. Do you know what you’re having or do you want a few moments to think?”

You and Clint settled into a booth by the window. You slipped into your seat first, and then he slid in opposite you. Tom handed out menus, which you just lay flat on the table. It hadn’t changed in years, so you didn’t have to look. Plus, milkshakes and coffee were always a key part of any diner.

“Two vanilla milkshakes, two plain coffees, and a _whooooole_ lot of napkins,” you smirked.

Clint shot you a happy look. Tom’s brow furrowed in suspicion. Rather than just asking, he threw his hands into the air and shrugged before heading back towards the kitchen. You had had no doubt that he would let you do whatever you wanted.

“And the experiment begins!” Clint exclaimed. “Are you hungry, do you any to order any food?”

“Maybe in a bit,” you smiled, folding your arms on the table top and staring into his face. “I’m just going to appreciate you for a few minutes.”

He huffed out a laugh, before brushing a hand over his face. He looked a bit nervous under your scrutiny.

“I like your shirt,” you said to put him at ease.

He glanced down, as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. Demin jeans and a light grey/blue shirt. It suited his eyes. When he looked up and met your gaze again he was smiling, his eyes crinkling slightly.

“I forgot to say, but you look gorgeous today.” His words brought your flush back in full force.

“Thank you, Clint,” you said warmly.

A few moments of silence stretched out between you both before he broke it. “So how are you enjoying being back in the small town life?”

“It could be a lot worse,” you smirked. “I miss the bustle of the city a bit, I like to be busy, but I can breathe easier out here. The air is clean.”

“Nothing about the company then? I’m disappointed.” He pouted, but you knew he wasn’t actually serious.

“Yeah, meeting Lucky was a definite plus,” you smirked.

“Ouch!” He put a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “I felt that!”

“Oh, you’re not so bad,” you relented with a wink.

“So you’re not just here for the free coffee and milkshake?” he joked.

“I never was,” you said in surprise, not fooling around anymore. “I don’t expect you to pay for me. I never did!”

“Don’t shoot!” he chuckled as he held up his hands. “I didn’t mean any offence! I just want to!”

“I’m not going to let you pay!” you clarified, waving your arms around.

“Yes, you are!” he imitated your petulant tone, still smiling.

“I don’t like letting people pay for me,” you bit your lip.

“I want to though,” he said softly. “I haven’t been on a proper date in a long while. Give me a chance to be a gentleman?”

You were going to refuse again, but there was something almost pleading on his face. You found yourself surrendering, a small smile on your face. “Fine, I’ll appease your manly ego.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled, picking up a menu. “Now, are you sure you don’t want anything to eat. What about pancakes?”

You tried to mask the quick flash of desire across your face. Yeah, you really loved pancakes. But if he was going to be spending money on you, you were going to try limit it. You didn’t want him to be spending loads on you. However, he was as keen as a hawk and caught the expression instantaneously.

“What do you want on them?” he laughed.

“What do you like?” you asked. “We can share.”

“You don’t have to be so concerned with not costing me money,” he clarified. “I may not sit in an office all day but I’m not struggling.”

“That car didn’t make it seem like you were,” you smirked. “But c’mon, let’s share.” You folded your arms on the table in-front of you, leaning down and looking up at him coyly. “It’ll be all cringey cute first-date stuff.” That seemed to get his attention. His head snapped upright suddenly, his eyes focusing intensely on you. He stared at you for a few seconds, and you smirked back flirtatiously at him. “What do you say, Clint?”

He blushed bright red, looking back down at the menu again. After a short pause, he simply said. “How about strawberry and Nutella?”

“And ice cream?” you added hopefully.

“And ice cream,” he confirmed, snapping the menu closed with a smile.

At that moment, Tom reappeared with a tray in his hands. Setting it down on the table, he began to unload the various cups and mugs upon it. He passed each of you a steaming cup of coffee, and a milkshake. Finally, he deposited a large stack of napkins in the middle of it. When he looked up he grinned at you both. “Anything else you two need?”

“Stack of pancakes,” Clint answered. He leaned back against his booth, slinging an arm along the top of it in a casual manner. “With Nutella, strawberries and ice cream. Thanks, Tom.”

“No bother. I’ll have that out to you guys in five.”

Giving you both another look that was both curious and fond, he strode back towards the counter. As he pushed his way into the kitchens, you watched the doors swing closed behind him.

“Alright,” Clint chuckled. The sound drew your attention back to him. “How are we going to do this?”

You examined the cups in front of you curiously. “Well, both are filled to the brim. We should try to maybe drink half of each, and then mix them? That way we don’t waste anything, and we still manage to have some normal drinks before we potentially screw up big-time and concoct something horrible.”

“Sounds good,” he rubbed his hands together before placing his hands flat on the table. “What shall we start with?”

You shrugged. “Whatever you want. We don’t have to drink the same thing! I think I’ll start with a milkshake.” Reaching forward, you dragged your glass over towards you. Clint took a pair of straws from the container down by where the table ended at the wall. He passed one to you, and you thanked him as you dropped it into your milkshake.

He picked up his coffee and held it clasped between two hands, smiling at you over the table-top. He took a sip and winced slightly. It must have been too hot. He just smiled when he caught sight of your concerned expression, letting you know that he was fine. You raised your milkshake glass to your lips and took a gulp. It was cool, sweet and refreshing.

“Good?” Clint asked.

“These milkshakes are my favourite,” you told him. “Believe me, I went to a lot of places in the city but none beat Tom’s milkshakes.”

“So that’s one good thing home has to offer,” he joked.

“I can think of another,” you smirked.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned forward, almost leering at you. You could see the excitement in his eyes.

“Yeah. Lucky is pretty big draw.” You maintained a look of pure innocence as you lifted your milkshake up to your mouth again and took a sip. You were staring at him coyly from underneath your lashes.

He rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair. Throwing his hands up in exasperation, he simply said “I don’t know why I let myself get my hopes up!”

You paused to see if he was being serious. This time… you weren’t exactly sure. However, he winked at you , showing he was only joking. “You looked worried. I had you going there for a second.” _He seemed… happy about it?_ Seeing your narrowed eyes, he shrugged and confidently responded. “I wanted to know that you cared.”

“Not knowing how to respond to his increasing confidence, you simply shook your head and drank a little bit more of your milkshake.

“Okay, it’s ‘get-to-know-you time!’” He exclaimed.

“Alright then, shoot,” you smiled in response, setting your milkshake glass down to give him your full attention.”

What’s your favourite colour?” he asked, going for an easy first one it seemed.

You thought for a moment and then answered him. After, you repeated the question. You had expected him to say red, or black, or some stereotypical “manly” answer. His response caught you off guard. “I like purple.”

“Purple?” you were slightly incredulous.

“Yeah. I like it,” he took a tentative sip of coffee.

His eyes were on you. Noting your surprised face, he became a bit visibly embarrassed, you could see it in how he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I think it’d look good on you,” you replied, grinning. “I didn’t expect that answer. I didn’t mean any offence though. I… admire you for breaking away from the mould.”

“I’m in touch with my feminine side,” he chuckled.

“Wear purple next time,” you instructed him. “I’m curious now.”

“Only if you do too,” he retorted.

“Fine, we’ll both wear purple.” You were amused at how quickly his confidence had sprang back after a compliment.

“On Wednesdays we wear purple,” he laughed.

That _definitely_ caught you off-guard. You raised a brow and looked at him with visible shock on your face. “Did you just quote ‘Mean Girls?’”

“Yup.”

“Clint, you are full of surprises.”

He chuckled to himself, leaning back once more. His gaze wandered off to the side of you, and a distant look came over it. However, he still appeared happy, though lost in thought. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said softly, a faint trace of smugness in his voice.

“Do I sense a bit of mystery?” You leaned forward and looked at him playfully.

“I don’t know what you’re on about. I’m an open book.”

His quick defence had you pause and examine him carefully. His smile looked genuine, and you very nearly believed him. You would have totally believed him if it wasn’t for the faintest flicker of something unreadable at the back of those eyes. However, you didn’t press. It was a first date, and people were entitled to their secrets. If this continued, things would come out in their own time. You were not going to be one to push as he was also so considerate of you.

“Mean Girls, then. How did you like it? And why did you watch it? You’re a fully grown man!”

“It was just one of those days where there was nothing else on TV. I wasn’t so much in the mood for horror or action movies. I haven’t been for a while. I turned it on when it was halfway through and watched until the end. Afterwards I went out and bought the DVD.”

“Would you not consider Netflix?” you asked. “It makes watching new movies so much more convenient.”

“I don’t know, I think I just like to be able to look at my DVD collection. I got a lot of movies over the years. I’m pretty proud of my collection. I guess in a way it’s similar to people liking to have hard copies of books rather than those ebook reader things.”

“I can get that,” you smiled. “I like having physical books in my hands rather than the ebook. Though I don’t know if it’s quite the same, I can see the relationship.”

“Providing all goes well, you’re welcome to come over and check my movie collection out some time,” he offered slyly.

“Well hey, at least you’re not proposing a Netflix and chill,” you smirked.

“What’s that?”

Your eyes widened slightly. _Had he never heard the expression?_ “Never mind.” You sooooo did not want to have to explain that.

“No, tell me.”

The earnest look plastered on his face showed he was not about to give up just yet, so you sighed and relented. “It’s, um, slang. For when someone goes to someone else’s house under the guise of watching a movie… but that’s not all exactly that they had in mind.”

“What else did they have in mind?” he enquired with an innocent face.

You stared at him, not really sure how to continue. It would make for awkward first date conversation. Maintaining his gaze for a few seconds, you stayed silent as you searched for words to explain the term is the best way possible.

His face maintained its expression for a few seconds before crumpling. He started laughing almost hysterically. You just continued to stare at him, eyes wide and confused.

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” He covered his mouth in a bid to stop himself from laughing even more. “I just wanted to see how you would explain it.”

Your mouth gaped open incredulously. “You were testing me?!”

“I’m sorry. I’m a curious guy.”

“So you know what ‘Netflix and chill’ means?”

“I had heard the term and had an idea what it meant. Never been properly explained to me before.”

“But you did know!”

“I had an understanding, yes. I don’t live under a rock.”

You shook your head, albeit amused by him. “You are so weird.”

“I get that a lot.”

A plate set down in front of you made you jump.

“Pancakes!” Tom said cheerily. He handed you two sets of knives and forks wrapped in tissue paper, and stood back to grin at you both. “You know, I’m still very curious to find out what you needed all those napkins for.”

“Does he really want to know?” Clint said cheekily, cocking a brow at you.

“I don’t know,” you played along and put a hand under your chin, making a face like you were thinking. “I’m not sure if he really, really wants to!”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Alright. Enjoy your pancakes. Maybe you two meeting was a bad idea after all…”

“Bye Tom,” you giggled.

You watched him walk off before glancing back at Clint. Your date was staring at the plate of food in the middle of the table.

“What?” you asked.

“Bit far to be reaching for it, don’t you think? The table is pretty wide.”

You examined it too. He was right. You’d have to stand up slightly if you wanted to be able to reach the plate. He would too. The stack of pancakes were already smack bang in the middle of the table, so there was no way you could readjust so you could both eat.

“I guess we’re just going to have to sit at the same side of the booth then, huh?” You tried to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t want him to see the idea was giving you slight jitters.

“Okay, I’ll come over then,” he said. However, he did not move.

“Alright then,” you smiled nervously in response.

“Yup…” he trailed off. He was still sitting still, watching you.

You waited a few seconds before speaking again. “Are you, uhm, are you coming over?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He rose to his feet and scooted out from behind his side of the booth. You could glimpse a slight trepidation on his face as he approached. Wanting to focus upon something else you shifted around, moving over to make room for him in the booth. He sat down heavily beside you, moving close, but not too close. A respectable distance was kept between the two of you, but his proximity still made your skin tingle. He turned towards you and smiled shyly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you replied. “It’s more than okay.”

He grinned happily and reached out, dragging the plate across the table to rest in front of you both. He examined it for a second before asking, “should I get a second plate?”

“Nah,” you grabbed for a set of cutlery and began to unwrap the napkin that held the knife, fork and spoon together. “I’m okay with just taking scoops off this if you are.”

“Yeah, I am.” He mimicked your action. You waited until he was ready, before cutting part of the pancake off, swirling it in the Nutella pooled on the plate and then heaping it into your mouth.

“Good?” he laughed, watching your delighted expression.

“Umm hmm,” you nodded, chewing contentedly.

He broke off a piece and ate it, giving you a close mouth grin as he did. You chuckled and gestured to the small blob of Nutella that he had dotted on the corner of his mouth. His eyes widened and he lifted the napkin up to wipe his face, scrubbing at it furiously. When he was done, he glanced up at you sheepishly again.

“Enjoying it, huh?” you chuckled.

“Nutella is good,” he replied, raising his fork into the air.

“Amen to that,” you giggled, taking another forkful. “Okay, question time again. What’s your favourite book?”

He mulled it over for a second, and you liked that he was actually giving it some thought. “Probably anything by Stephen King. I like horror. How about you?”

When you named your favourite book, his brow scrunched slightly. “I’ve never read it. Maybe I could borrow it from you sometime?”

You were flattered that he was showing an interest in the things you liked. It must have been obvious to him by the slight blush on your face.

“Of course you can, I’d really like that.”

“Cool,” he smirked. “So, how long were you working in marketing for?”

You paused for a second to think back. “About ten years now. I graduated and got a job straight away as an intern for two years. I was mostly fetching coffees and typing out memos. After that I got offered a permanent position. Switched jobs a few times, but stayed in the industry.”

“So you must like it then?”

“Yeah, I mainly focus on advertisements. Though I’m planning to go back and get some sort of qualification in digital marketing what with tech becoming so popular nowadays. How about you? What’s IT consulting like?” A look akin to panic flashed across his face at your words. You laughed in response. “What, afraid it’ll bore me?”

“A little,” he smiled, looking relieved. “Yeah, it’s alright. Techy stuff, you know how it is.”

You waited for him to elaborate more, but he didn’t. Not wanting silence to continue to fill the air, you asked another question. “You said you travelled sometimes. Have you been anywhere nice?”

“Oh good, yeah. All over the place!” He suddenly became a bit more animated. “I’ve been all over the states, New Mexico, Washington, Massachusetts and so on. Been down to South America. I’ve been to Ireland, the UK, Germany, Italy, the Czech Republic and Russia among a whooole lot of other places in continental Europe. I’ve gone to the Middle East even. I also spent a good few months in Budapest…. I was in Sokovia a while ago as well.”

“Oh nice,” you said, happy he was chatting again. “What was Budapest like?”

“I was working so I didn’t get to see the sights too much, but I really liked it. The people were friendly and the food was good. I did get to see a bit of the city and it was beautiful. I’d like to go back some day without the distractions.”

“I’ve never been. I think I’d like to go... When were you in Sokovia? It was awful what happened there back in the spring, with Tony Stark’s murderbots going out of control.”

“Yeah… That was awful…” he trailed off, suddenly looking solemn. “What about you? Done much travelling?”

“A bit. Not as much as you. Mostly the Americas, Canada. I did a winter expedition to Alaska. I have been to Ireland, England and Rome in Italy, but nothing more.”

“Which one was your favourite?”

“Probably Alaska. It was a girl’s week away. We trekked through the national parks, went to heritage museums and we even went on a helicopter tour. The best thing though, was we went on a sled dog tour. That was amazing.”

“I went to Anchorage once,” he nodded. “I really liked it.”

“Jeez, where haven’t you been?” you chuckled. “Mr Worldwide over here! You’re living the dream, a job that affords you to travel like that.”

He laughed, but then shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not all you make it out to be. Work can be… Messy. There’s rarely time to just sit and take in everything.”

You weren’t sure how IT consulting could be messy, but simply let it slide.

You had both been eating your way through the stack of pancakes as you had talked. It was almost half gone at this stage. It was seriously good. Pancakes had definitely been a great idea.

He smiled at you before asking. “Those girlfriends you mentioned, are they all from the city?”

“Yeah, friends from work. I talk to them on the phone every few days, but it’s difficult when you move. They have so much going on back there that I don’t really feel like I’m in the loop anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” you smiled. “It’s how life goes. They’re good friends, just busy at the moment. How about you? I know there’s not many people our age in this town, but are you still friends with people from before?”

“Yeah. I have a few good friends. I’m still best friends with my partner from work even though I left DC, and get along pretty good with my former boss. They drop in every few weeks. I have a group up in New York. Good guys. We meet up every so often.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled. “What do you guys do when you get together?”

“Normal things. Last time, in April, we had this big party that got a bit out of hand.”

You chuckled. “World-was-ending kind of drama?” you teased.

“Something like that,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m glad to see you can still let loose.”

“Oh, do I look like the kind of guy that can’t let loose?” He pretended to be offended, but his eyes were twinkling.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You seem pretty uptight to me.”

“Oh yeah?” he exclaimed.  “If I was uptight, would I do this?”

He leaned forward across the table and grabbed his milkshake and his mug of coffee. You laughed, knowing fine well what he was about to do. His coffee was half empty, though a lot more remained in his milkshake. He took a swig and made a face, muttering about how the transition from hot to cold was pretty unpleasant. When he had downed a few sips, he then lifted up his coffee cup and tilted it, pouring it into the milkshake. He swirled it around with the straw a few times, and then sat back and looked at you.

Without any verbal prompt, you reached forward and did the same. You weren’t as graceful at pouring the coffee into the milkshake as he was, and some of it spilt onto the table. He immediately took his napkin, and began to wipe at the table with it, lifting your glass so he could clean up under it. You smothered a smile when he did that.

You were finding him seriously cute. From his looks to his demeanour, you were so far completely smitten.

“Right,” he said. You realised that you had been simply staring at him. “So, shall we?”

“We shall,” you smirked.

Clint reached out and took hold of his milkshake, lifting it into the air. You did the same. Over the top of your glass, you could see a slow smirk crawl across his face. It had your heart beating quicker and a wave of heat run through your body. _God, he was freaking hot._

“Cheers,” he rumbled. The look he was giving you was so intense, you felt like his eyes were burning through you.

You couldn’t remember if you’d ever felt this strongly about someone on a first date before. You didn’t think you had, or you would have remembered.

You clinked your glass against his, enjoying the soft chime it made when they touched.

“Cheers,” you replied softly.

You took a drink of your concoction. It wasn’t exactly bad… but it wasn’t exactly good either. The consistency of it was a bit off.

“What do you think?” Clint asked, taking another sip.

“Not the worst,” you commented. “Drinkable. Probably would be better if we followed one of those recipes I found online about how to make our own.”

“I’d be up for giving that a go sometime,” he said enthusiastically.

“Proposing something to do for a second date?” You nudged him playfully with your elbow. You weren’t entirely kidding, however, instead you were pretty hopeful. “You said you had the restaurant booked for two weeks, but I think I’d like to see you a bit sooner.”

He perked up at that, before replying. “Proposing another date, yes. Proposing that as a second date, no.”

“Why not? It sounds like fun.”

“I… I already have an idea for a second date, before the restaurant, planned out.”

That took you by surprise. And it was also very cute. You weren’t entirely sure what exactly to say next.

“How many other dates do you have planned?” you asked, unable to think of anything else.

“You don’t need to know just yet,” he poked you in the side. “Can’t give all my secrets away.”

“Do I get to plan one, or do you have some sort of date monopoly?” you snickered.

“I suppose you can plan one.”

“Just one?”

“Yup.”

You took another slurp of your coffee/milkshake while he ate some pancakes. There only was a small amount left, so you agreed to finish them before they got too cold. Clint asked if you wanted anything else to eat, but you declined. You were pretty full at this stage. You finished off your drink while you and Clint talked. You chatted about life, dogs, and his chickens. He told you he had four hens and a rooster.

“What are they called?” you laughed curiously.

He ran a hand over his face nervously. He was chuckling and turning slightly red. His reaction gave you the impression that this was going be good. When you saw the slight embarrassment on his face, you couldn’t help giggling like a preteen at a boyband concert, and he hadn’t even told you the names yet.

“Right…” he sighed as he pulled out his phone. He called up his gallery, scrolled down and selected a picture with five chickens in it. Lucky was lying down at the end of the row of chickens, paws crossed and looking at the camera with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Clint pointed to each chicken, naming them as he went.

“So that one on the left, that’s Albert Eggenstein. He’s the only male of the bunch. He crows every morning at almost exactly 6:15am and wakes me up. Beside him is Big Bird. I used to watch Sesame Street a lot as a kid. Unhappy family and all that. Cartoons were a great distraction. She’s actually a girl, but because she’s more yellow than the rest I wanted to call her ‘Big Bird.’ Beside her we have Amelia Egghart. I called her that because she’s a strong woman who doesn’t let the others tell her what to do. Then we have Attila the Hen, a girl once again. She’s pretty aggressive, which is why I called her Attila. She’s a better guard dog than Lucky is. And finally, we have Cluck Norris. She’s awesome and I love her most.”

By the end of Clint’s monologue, you were shaking with laughter. Tears pooled in your eyes as you clutched your stomach. You were genuinely laughing so hard you were full blown weeping, which made it really hard to breathe. Clint patted you gently on the back as you coughed and choked. He seemed happy that his story had amused you, even though he was blushing so hard the tips of his ears were red.

When you finally stopped laughing, you just stared at him and said, “you are amazing.”

“Thank you,” he seemed to get even more pleased by that comment.

“That may be the funniest thing I have ever heard.”

“Well, looks like I may have a superpower after all!”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Making pretty girls laugh.”

“Oh, you charmer,” you smirked at him.

“Speaking of superpowers…” he trailed off. “Another question. What do you think of the Avengers?”

“The superhero group?” you clarified.

“Who else?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m grateful to them, I guess. I wasn’t in New York during the attack but they stopped aliens from invading the world. Apart from the murderbots, they seem to do a lot of good.”

“That was Stark and Banner’s doing,” Clint interjected. “None of the rest.”

“Okay, sorry I didn’t know that! Anyhow… I think they try their best. I’ve no issue with them. If they were here right now I’d thank them.”

Clint seemed to approve of your answer, nodding his head and settling back against the booth. He took another gulp of his milkshake, and must have been nearly finished by how it make a loud slurping noise as it sucked up air from the bottom of the cup.

“What about you?” you asked. “How do you feel about them?”

“Oh, the same as you,” he shrugged. “I was just curious about your attitude. Some people agree with them being around, others want them to leave the justice work to the government and the police. I think they do a good job.”

“I bet your favourite is the arrow guy,” you teased.

“Hawkeye,” he corrected. He looked slightly irritated. “Is he not yours?”

“He’s pretty cool. Never saw his face though. It’s always blurred out on the TV and on the newspapers. It’s because he and the Black Widow are secret agents or something, right? He has _amazing_ arms though, I’ll give him that.”

“Yeah, they’re not so bad,” he laughed.

“Captain America would probably be my favourite though. No offence to the others, but my brother and I literally grew up on comics about him. I idolized him. I genuinely cried when I heard he had been found and you know, thawed.”

The slight frown stayed on his face, but softened slightly. “I guess that’s reasonable. Cap’s a cool guy.”

You were a bit weirded out by the familiarity in his tone, but let it go. Maybe your date was a fan boy?

“So who is your favourite Avenger?” you asked curiously.

“Hawkeye,” he responded immediately.

“Thought so,” you shrugged knowingly.

He gave you an extremely amused look, but didn’t press. You took another sip of the coffee/milkshake, and realised you were also nearly done. Tom came around to make sure that everything was okay, and Clint asked him for two glasses of water. The diner owner eyed your drinks in exasperation.

“My milkshakes aren’t good enough for you anymore, huh?” He was pretending to be annoyed but you could tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he wasn’t really.

“Just trying something.” Clint leaned back, confident half-smirk playing on his face. You were really starting to like that smirk. “If it had worked we all could have taken part in a joint business venture.”

Tom only rolled his eyes, gathered up the empty plates and glasses, and walked away.

As if he could tell you were getting a bit hot under the collar, his arm lifted from his side and slid up behind you, resting on the top of the booth. You glanced at it, but hide your smile by taking another sip of the coffee-shake. You could tell his was trying to be subtle about it, but he was putting his arm around you. Deciding to just go for it, you shifted in your seat, moving closer to him. He gave you a surprised look, but then the smirk widened. His arm dropped down to rest around your shoulders. Your skin felt hot under his touch.

“Having a good time?” he rumbled.

You nodded. He was great to talk to, and you were strangely drawn to him. There was something about him, his charm, his good-nature, and that goddamn body that was driving you crazy already.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Are you?”

“Of course. I don’t really want it to end.”

The diner was filling up, and you knew you would have to move soon. Neither of you planned to order anything else, and Tom needed the table. So far he hadn’t said anything, but you could see how he was glancing at you both. You didn’t want to be rude and cost him business, so you finished up quickly. Despite you arguing once again, Clint paid the bill. You managed to convince him to let you leave the tip, however.

He slid out of the  booth first and offered you his hand, helping you upright though you didn’t really need it. His fingers were calloused and careful, and you felt a shock of electricity from where they made contact with your own. You bid goodbye to Tom, and Clint ran to the door of the shop, opening it widely for you. Blushing again, you thanked him as he stepped through. It was a cool night and he offered you his jacket. You declined politely, saying the car was just there, but he took it off and draped it over your shoulders anyway.

After a moment’s hesitation, he offered you his arm. His eyes held an uncertain look, but you smiled and looped your arm through it. You reached the side of the road, and he carefully looked both ways before leading you across it and to the car. He reached out again and opened the passenger door, motioning for you to step in.

“Thank you,” you murmured. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His entire body froze, eyes growing wide. You had to laugh at his reaction.

He shut the car door once you were settled in, expression still kind of shocked. You watched him walk around the car to the driver’s seat, and glanced at the dash as you did. It was a bit after four. You’d been in the diner for quite a while, and you hadn’t even noticed the time going past. _Time flies when you’re having fun._

The door opened and Clint climbed in beside you. When he was settled he turned to face you and gave you a happy look.

“What?” you giggled.

“You know, we just jumped from a high-five last time to a cheek kiss. I am happy with this progress.”

He started up the car and the engine hummed to life. It was strong, powerful. The leather seat began to heat up underneath you and you snuggled back into it.

“Don’t get too confident,” you waggled a finger at him. “We may yet go back to high-fives by the end of the night.”

“I like my odds,” he smirked as he pulled out onto the road.

“So, where exactly do you live?” you enquired. “Since you know where I live.”

“Not too far from you. Probably about a ten minute drive from your place.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, you know the bridge with the fork in the road after it? You take a right to go to yours, you take a left to get to mine.”

“Wow, you’re seriously close by.”

“Yup. You’re welcome to swing by any time you want. In fact… My second date idea kind of takes place at mine?”

“Trying to get me to come over to yours for our second date?” you teased.

“Hell yeah. You can show me how to Netflix and chill.” You stared at him, wondering if he was serious. Catching your look, he shot you a quick wink. “Relax, _____. I’m not that forward. Not yet.”

You let out a relieved laugh. “Okay, so if you weren’t thinking Netflix and chill what did you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, c’mon, Clint!”

“Nah. I’m not telling you. Wear old clothes though. Stuff you don’t mind getting ruined.”

You narrowed your eyed at him, wondering what he had planned. He gave you a quick, benign grin.

“Alright…” you trailed off.

Warm skin brushed against yours as he leaned over and took your hand.

“You’ll have fun, I promise,” his voice was gentle.

You chose to believe him, mostly because you were pretty sure that as long as you were with him you would have fun. Squeezing his fingers, you didn’t let go of his hand. The rest of the drive continued with you holding hands on your lap. Eventually, he had to take his hand back so he could turn right at the fork past the bridge.

It was there that a thought occurred to you and you piped up again, unable to keep from asking. “You mentioned not getting along with a brother, but what about your parents? Do they live near here?”

“No. They’re buried in another state,” he told you quietly.

You winced. “Oh God, Clint I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I was a kid when it happened. It’s been a while. Doesn’t sting anymore.”

“Still, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.” He reached out to take your hand again, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Careful for the pothole,” you reminded him as the car approached the turn into your parent’s driveway.

He avoided it, turned on his indicator, and began to drive up the bumpy path leading to your house. Unlike your little car, his big one barely seemed to feel the bumps and so the drive was smoother than usual. The porch light was on, and you could see movement in the kitchen window. Your own car was parked off to the side, obviously back from the mechanic. Rich’s tow truck was there too.

Clint drew to a halt, and looked over at you with a sigh. “I guess it’s time to say goodbye.”

You were about to reply when the front door opened and your mother trooped out. She had an apron thrown on, which was covered in flour stains. She had obviously been baking. She trooped down the porch steps, and started coming over to the car.

“Why is she coming so determinedly?” Clint asked. You could hear nervousness in his voice. You figured he may not be super used to mothers.

She continued to approach, and so Clint opened the car door so he could talk to her. She introduced herself and reached out to shake his hand.

“I’m Clint,” he said. “Sorry if I had her out a bit late for lunch time…”

You snorted. You were a grown ass woman and it was only after four o’clock. You were definitely not out late.

“Lovely to meet you,” your mother was saying. “I was just coming over to invite you in for dinner. I made homemade pizza, but I think I made a bit much. I keep forgetting my son’s not home. We need another man to help us finish it.”

Clint was mostly facing away from you, but you could see the surprise on his face as he registered her words. It was soon replaced by a sheepish, pleased grin. He went to reply, but hesitated and glanced back at you, searching for your permission. You smiled encouragingly, unable to say no to his excited expression. It was a bit cringey for your mom to invite him to dinner after the first date, but he seemed to be really excited at the prospect so you found that you didn’t mind.

“I’d love to,” he exclaimed. “I love pizza, it’s my favourite food!”

“So you’re like _____,” your mother laughed. “Adults eating like three year olds.”

“I’m probably a bit worse,” he confessed, stepping out of his car.

You opened your own door, and for once he didn’t notice. He was too caught up with chatting to your mother. You climbed out and closed the door behind you. When you looked up you noticed that the two of them had already begun to walk towards the house. You shook your head, both aghast and amused that your mother was pretty much stealing your date, and trooped after them.

They were chatting steadily as they made their way up the porch steps. You watched as Clint reached out and opened the door for your mother, motioning for her to go in. He only seemed to realise then how far behind you were, his head snapping around to locate you. You grinned as you reached the top of the steps.

“Forget about me already?” you teased.

“I’m sorry, I got caught up chatting to your mom,” he said as you passed him. Then, his voice dropped into a whisper. “I want to make a good impression.”

“I think you are,” you smiled reassuringly as you entered the house.

He stepped in behind you, and it was extremely endearing to see him wiping his feet so carefully on the doormat. He took off his jacket and you held out your hands. He passed it to you, and you hung it up on the peg.

“Dinner won’t be ready for another good bit,” your mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Maybe you can show Clint around?”

“Okay,” you called back. You turned to look at your date, who was standing behind you with his hands in his pockets. “So, come on I guess!”

You showed him the living room, where he met your dad and Rich. You weren’t exactly sure how your dad would react to Clint, but he greeted him warmly enough. You left after a few minutes as the two men were watching TV. Next you went to the kitchen, where your mom was busy cleaning off the trays and bowls she had used when making the pizza. Clint offered to help her, but she told him with a smile that she was almost done and shooed him out, saying he was a guest. After that, you took him into the study. He looked around for a moment before smiling, and striding into the room to stare at the framed pictures on the wall.

“Is this you?” He asked, pointing towards a picture of a child sitting on a pony.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “It was taken on vacation. I did a few horse riding lessons, and it was pretty funny because as the pony moved I’d bounce up and down in the saddle and my legs would be hitting off it’s flanks. That’s the signal for it to go faster, so it started galloping really fast and I couldn’t stop it because the faster it ran the more my legs were hitting off its sides.”

“Why didn’t you just hold your legs steady?” Clint laughed.

“See, it was a really fat pony, so I couldn’t really hold my legs steady because they weren’t long enough to reach the bottom of its flank. So they were just kinda… splayed out at its side.”

“That must have been hilarious to watch,” Clint smirked.

“I think the instructor almost had a heart attack,” you shook your head as you recalled the moment. “It was going pretty fast and she was yelling at me to slow down. But I wasn’t holding the reins, I had my arms wrapped around that pony’s neck for dear life.”

“Oh Christ…” he laughed again. “Did you actually get thrown?”

“No, I managed to stop it. I don’t really remember how.”

“Ever gotten into the saddle again?”

“Oh yeah, a few times! It didn’t scar me for life or anything.”

“Glad to hear it. I’m pretty decent on horseback myself. If things continue to go well maybe we could go on a trek sometime?”

“That sounds like fun,” you replied with a smile. “Though you are seriously making that whole ‘date monopoly’ thing seem like not so much of a joke anymore.”

He rolled his eyes at you, but didn’t seem offended. “Where to next?”

“Well I’ll show you the dining room and then I guess there’s upstairs.”

“What’s upstairs?”

“The bedrooms. But don’t you get any ideas!”

So you took him to the dining room, where he peered out the back door.

“Oh, you have a treehouse!”

You giggled at the excitement in his voice. “Yeah, from when we were kids. I’m not sure how secure it is now, the wood could be rotten.”

“Can we go out?” he asked eagerly.

“Sure!”

You opened the back door, sliding it back and then stepped outside. He followed you as you made your way across the deck and out onto the grass. He overtook you then, striding quickly towards the treehouse. Reaching it, he began to climb up the small wooden ladder.

“Clint, I don’t know if I would,” you warned him. “I really don’t want you to break something.”

“It’s okay,” he called over his shoulder as he reached the top of the ladder and climbed carefully onto the platform. “I think it’s steady. Are you coming up?”

You contemplated it for a minute, before sighing and starting up the ladder after him. Soon enough, you felt strong hands wrap around your upper-arms, carefully helping you onto the platform. When you were standing, you lifted your head to smile up at Clint.

“You know, I’ve climbed this treehouse many more times than you,” you smirked. “I don’t think I need a hand.”

“Just in case,” he smiled, eyes meeting yours.

The air buzzed with electricity and his eyes glimmered, but you dragged yourself away from your position standing in front of him. While a first kiss in your childhood treehouse would be undoubtedly romantic, you weren’t ready just yet. So you moved over to the railing, resting your hands on it and looking up at the sky. It was just beginning to grow dark, the sunset streaked in orange and pink.

“Wow,” Clint commented, stepping up beside you. “That really is something.”

“Talking about me, eh?” you joked.

“This isn’t a movie,” he chuckled. “Iif you want sommeone to stare at you all gooey eyed, come see Lucky.”

“Oh, I definitely will.”

His shoulder brushed yours and you felt that tingle where you touched once again, but you ignored it. Together, you both stared up at the sky in silence, admiring the beautiful colours coating the sky. It was truly spectacular, but it was also quite cold. You shivered ever so slightly, but Clint must have felt it. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his body. Rather than fight it, you leaned into him, resting your head against his upper arm, as near to his shoulder as you could get.

“So, can I assume this is going well?” His voice was quiet, and also slightly unsure.

“You’re in my treehouse, I’d say this is going quite well.”

“Well it was your mom who invited me in, not you.”

“I would have made up some excuse if I didn’t want you to stay,” you said plainly.

He chuckled, and you could feel his body vibrate with the motion. “Glad to hear.”

“Mmmhmmm,” you replied as you slipped an arm around his back.

He stiffened in surprise at the contact. His head twisted to look at you, eyes betraying that you had indeed caught him off guard. You stared back at him in amusement. A wry smile graced his face, and he relaxed into your touch. You stayed like that for another few minutes until a gust of wind had you shudder again despite yourself. Clint’s body was as warm as a furnance, but he could only heat up a small part of you as you stood there. He shot you an amused look, a grin curling his mouth upwards.

“We should go inside,” Clint stated.

“Yeah,” you sighed, though you would have liked to stay longer.

You climbed down the ladder first, standing back to look up as Clint prepared to make his way down. He watched you, and you could see a twinkle in his eyes. You arched a brow, wondering what the look was for. Clint stepped up to edge of the platform, and instead of descending the ladder, he suddenly vaulted forward, leaping into the air. You shrieked, afraid he would break his leg, or worse, his back.

Disbelief coated your features as he flipped in mid-air, and then landed unharmed in a lunge position just in front of you. His arm was outstretch at his side, hand closed as if gripping something invisible. You stared at him, at a loss for words. He straightened up, brushing the grass from his jeans. His hand uncurled and there was nothing there.

“Are you a gymnast?” you blurted.

He laughed. “Not exactly. Remember I said I did martial arts?”

“Yes… but that seemed a lot more like gymnastics than fighting.”

“Maybe it’s a bit of both,” he relented. “Did you like it?”

“I would have liked some warning,” you chuckled as relief coursed through you, “but yes.”

He smirked and walked forward, offering his arm. There was swagger in his step. Obviously showing off had helped increase his confidence. You looped your arm through his and tugged him forward. You made your way back into the house.

“So, are you going to show me your room?” Clint asked with a cheeky smile.

“I don’t think you want to see it,” you laughed. “My parents didn’t change it when I left. I still have all my teddies on the shelf and my NSYNC posters on the wall.”

“Okay, I have to see it now,” he rushed ahead of you, racing for the stairs.

You groaned and then hurried after him, conscious of what your parents may say if they knew you had brought him to your room. You were a grown-up, but it was their house and they had their beliefs. You weren’t entirely sure how they would react, but Clint was filled with determination so you doubted you’d be able to stop him.

He took the stairs two at a time, only stopping upon the landing to turn and wait for you.

“That’s my brother’s room,” you told him as you pointed into the first room. He paused to peer in, but didn’t enter. You didn’t show him any of the other bedrooms, simply went down the hall and pushed open the door to your own.

Clint wandered in, spinning on his heel to look at all of the room. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Nope,” you chuckled as you watched him.

“This is genuinely the stuff of nightmares.”

“I told you.”

“How do you sleep at night with these just _staring_ at you like that?” He gestured to a poster of young Justin Timberlake, his face twisted in disbelief.

“You get used to them,” you giggled.

“I don’t think I ever could,” he shuddered dramatically.

You leaned against the door frame with your arms folded, watching him as he made his way over to your shelf, where all your teddy bears were stacked neatly. After examining them for a few moments he reached forward and plucked a bear off the shelf.

“Who’s this?” he asked, holding it in front of his face and waving its little arms at you.

You laughed at his goofiness, and followed him into the room. “That is Mr Bear. I’ve had him since I was two years old.”

Clint turned the bear around to examine it. “Yeah, he looks a bit worn. Also, Mr Bear? You really weren’t an inventive child.”

“Oh shut up,” you groaned as you took the bear off him and deposited him upon the shelf.

“Very nice room, I have to say,” he laughed at you, his eyes glimmering.

You rolled your eyes and began to shove him out of the room. “Oh shut up. I may get it done up.”

“You could even just take the posters down,” he smirked.

“Out,” you said sternly, continuing to push him towards the door.

When you reached the door frame he threw out his arms and grabbed hold of either side. Bracing himself against it, he looked back at you over his shoulder and smirked. You scowled at him, though you weren’t actually mad, and shoved him again. He remained where he was, and so you drew back, steeled yourself, and bundled forward into him.

Obviously taken by surprise, he let out an “oomf!” before staggering forward. You fell onto his back, and he tripped over his own feet, falling forward. You landed on his back as he slammed into the carpet. For a moment, there was winded silence as you both regained your breath. Then, you burst out laughing. He sighed, one side of his place pressing into the floorboards.

“You know, we’ve only met twice and this is the second time you’ve fallen on top of me. I really hope this isn’t becoming a habit.”

“You deserved it,” you replied. “You were making fun of my room.”

“Your room deserved to be made fun of.”

You leaned on him more heavily, causing him to sigh in exasperation. “Get. Off.”

”Not until you say you’re sorry,” you smirked.

“Never.”

“______?” Your father’s voice rang out from the foot of the stairs.

You felt Clint freeze underneath you, and both of you shared a look of panic. Struggling to your feet, you managed to stand just as your father’s footsteps started up the steps. Clint popped up beside you, straightening his shirt just as the top of your dad’s head appeared.

“Yeah, dad?” There was so much fake innocence in your voice, like a second ago you weren’t lying on top of your date on the ground.

“Dinner’s ready,” he answered, thankfully not suspecting anything.

You and Clint shared an amused look, and then headed down after him as he made his way to the kitchen. You went and grabbed a plate, taking a few slices of the homemade pizza. Usually everyone would sit at the table and eat together, but your father and Rich were watching a game and so they retreated back into the living room with their plates of food. They extended an offer to Clint to join them. His eyes flickered to you as he politely declined, obviously not wanting to leave you. You smothered a smug smile, knowing everyone around you could see the warmth in his expression.

As your dad and Rich were in the living room, it was just yourself, Clint, and your mother at the dinner table. You watched how he interacted with her, so polite and talkative. He was obviously very eager to make a good impression. You knew he was doing it too, his open friendliness was drawing a smile from her as she listened to him talk. She seemed especially interested in hearing about his travels, and how he had settled down here while leading a life in IT consulting. She shot a number of pointed looks at you during that discussion, causing you to roll your eyes.

Dinner was over soon enough, and it was time for Clint to go. He had expected to be home earlier, and Lucky and the chickens needed to be fed. You followed him out the front door and down the patio steps in silence. There he turned to face you.

It was night at that stage, so half his face was in darkness. The rest of it was illuminated by the light from the house windows. He fished his keys out of his pocket, and held them loosely in his hand.

“Well, that went on for a lot longer than I thought it would,” he smiled.

“Sorry to keep you so long,” you sighed. “I know my mom likes to talk.”

“Don’t be.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I really enjoyed it. I wasn’t complaining.”

“I had a lot of fun too,” you grinned widely. “Thanks for the pancakes and the coffee and milkshakes!”

“My pleasure. So… about that second date?” All of the earlier confidence was gone as a note of uncertainty crept into his voice. “Are you still interested?”

You stepped forward, moving so close that your chests were almost brushing. His breath hitched slightly as he looked at you through heavily lidded eyes. You reached a hand up and placed it on his arm, trailing your fingers lightly across his skin.

“Most definitely,” you replied softly. “Whenever you’re free.”

“I have to go to New York on Thursday,” he said. “How about Monday?”

Six days seemed like an awfully long time before seeing him again, but you weren’t going to say that just yet. You didn’t want him to know how hooked on him you were already. So instead of pulling a sad face like you wanted to, you simply nodded and agreed that that sounded perfect.

“Okay, cool,” he seemed relieved. “I’ll message you on Whatsapp while I’m gone. And if I have some time maybe we could have a phone call, or even a video chat..?”

“That sounds great.” You felt a bit happier at the prospect of a video chat. “I’d really like that.”

He dipped his head, blushing slightly. “Alright then, I better head off. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Clint,” you responded, stepping forward into his chest.

You put your arms around him and hugged him tightly, burying your face into his chest. He smelled so good, a mix of cologne and sawdust, and something that must have been his natural scent. His arms wrapped around your body, his face falling into the gap between your shoulder and your neck.

“Bye, sweetheart.” His voice was soft but gruff, filled with affection.

You turned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, causing him to chuckle.

“And there you are, getting my hopes up again.”

“Good things come to those who wait,” you reminded him primly, stepping back and grinning at him.

He mocked sighed, but didn’t kick up a fuss. Instead, he moved forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips were warm against your skin and a bolt of electricity shot throug you. You froze, feeling the heat rising onto your face. He looked down at you and grinned wolfishly.

“See, that’s how it feels,” he said smugly, before turning and striding away to his car.

You could only watch dumbly as he unlocked it and climbed inside, sliding into his seat smoothly. The headlights came on, almost blinding you, and you raised a hand to block them out. He pulled into a three point turn, and gave you a final wave, before he pulled off down the driveway and away into the darkness.

You stared after his retreating taillights for a few minutes, mulling over the events of the day. A small smile graced your features. Your forehead felt pleasantly warm. After a few minutes, you began to feel the chill again. Tugging your cardigan around you more tightly, you made your way back to the house.

You opened the door and stepped inside, closing it with haste. You leaned back against it, closing your eyes and smiling. A throat being cleared grabbed your attention.

Your mother stood in front of you, her face filled with amusement.

“What?” you said, embarrassed to have been caught in some silly day dream.

“I like him,” she replied simply, before turning and making her way back into the kitchen.

“Why don’t you date him then?” you called after her, slightly irritated by the knowing look in her eyes.

“Maybe I will if you don’t!”

“ _Cougar!”_


	4. Tiny and the Farm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I have checked this for mistakes but it is so freaking long that I am sure that I missed something. I swear if I have to write 'you' one more time tonight I will cry. This chapter is 25 pages long in a word doc, so be warned it'll take you a while to get through it. For something that I said would only be five or six chapter long, (well, it'll probably be around seven or eight), this is shaping up to be one of the longest fics I will probably write. Goddammit, I just love my Clint Barton. I wish the MCU did too. 
> 
> So the farm Clint lives on is indeed the Barton Farm from Age of Ultron. Obviously without the family. I like to think of the fic version of the farm as a bit more done-up looking than in the movie, plus the addition of the imaginary garage. And I talked a bit about mountains, which aren't really there in the film, but hey, I wanted mountains.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

“Clint? Are you coming?” Natasha asked, peering around the door of his room.

“In a minute,” the archer replied.

“Alright,” Nat shrugged, disappearing.

Clint could hear her heels clacking down the hallway as she drew further away. Eventually the sound faded completely.

He was at the window, staring out across the city. His hands were in his pockets, brushing his phone, and his eyes were fixed on the sun descending in the sky. Stark, or rather _Avengers’_ Tower, was one of the tallest buildings in New York. With that height came great views. Knowing Clint’s liking for the outside world, Tony had given him a room with floor to ceiling windows which let in a lot of natural night.

The room itself was smaller than most of the other’s bedrooms, but Clint was perfectly fine with that. After all, Tony had offered him another, bigger room but Clint had refused. He wouldn’t really know what to do with a massive bedroom, and there was something about the smaller room that made him feel safer, less on edge. Being in New York always had him slightly more anxious, and a small space to retreat into and call his own was somewhat calming.

He could hear the party on the floor below, already in full swing. It wasn’t a wild party per se, but lively. Distant chatter reached his ears, and he figured that he should go down soon. Still, he did not move, just stayed staring out into the sunset.

The tie felt a bit tight around his neck, and so he took his hands from his pockets and tugged it down slightly. After a few seconds of consideration, he just sighed and took it off altogether, tossing it onto his bed. Critically, he ran a gaze down the rest of his attire, wondering why he was so hesitant all of a sudden.

He had attended a fair few of Tony’s parties beforehand, so this was nothing new. Granted, last time he had gone to one of these things Ultron had come to life and tried to kill them, but he didn’t think that was the issue at this moment. Not sure of why he was hesitating so much, he sighed and hit his hands off his side twice, glancing around as he did.

The motion had his clenched fists hit off his mobile phone, hidden inside his pocket. He paused and slowly removed it. He stared at the black screen. A little light at the top corner flashed, showing that he had a new message.

He knew he should go down soon, but he really didn’t think anyone would miss him for a few more minutes.

He typed in his unlock code, and the phone opened with a quiet click. He read the new message. It was from you, asking if he got to his hotel okay. He really didn’t like lying, but he could hardly blurt out that he was Hawkeye, an Avenger, and staying in Tony Stark’s Tower where he had his very own bedroom. Attending previously mentioned billionaire’s annual Fall party.

Instead of doing any of that, he instead hit the call button and held the phone to his ear. He didn’t have to wait for long. You answered on the second ring.

“Hello?” You said slightly breathlessly.

He laughed slightly, a small smile coming to his face as he imagined you scrabbling for the phone as soon as you saw his name on the caller ID. It was a bit self-confident to think that it was _him_ rather than the simple act of your phone ringing that had you in such a rush to answer, but he was feeling good today and wanted the confidence boost.

“Hi there,” he smirked. “Just wanted to let you know that I got here okay.”

“Oh, thank you! I was wondering when I hadn’t heard from you for a bit! Not to seem weird or anything. I just wanted to know that you were okay…”

He had been talking to the others when he first came in, asking them where they were and what he had missed in the few months since he had last seen them. He didn’t want to pull his phone out of his pocket incase the others started asking questions. He didn’t want to deal with an inquisition right about then, and he knew if they copped he was seeing someone one would happen. With Steve, and Thor it would be well-meaning enquiry, while with Tony and Sam it would be ammunition of some kind. Natasha would just say nothing in front of the others, and then bombard him with questions in private.

After he had spoken to the others, he had been rushed to get ready for the party. He had showered quickly as felt dirty from the plane, put some product in his hair, and then unpacked his suitcase. He had brought three pairs of casual clothes, his stuff for tonight, work-out wear, sleep-wear and various changes of underwear and socks. It was enough until Sunday, which was when he returned home.

“It’s alright,” he smiled. “Your concern is pretty… cute. I’m just about to go downstairs to the work party, but I figured I’d call you first. How was your day?”

“It was good!” You exclaimed. He could feel how happy you were that he had asked. “I didn’t do much, I helped my dad sweep up the leaves in the garden, and then I went out for lunch with him and Mom. I went around town afterwards, into the old bookstore. They’re looking for a new manager, someone dynamic. Apparently business has gone down recently, they’re looking for someone to draw more people in from the surrounding towns, someone to come up with new ideas…”

There was a tone in your voice that caught Clint’s attention. A kind of hopefulness and wistfulness all mixed into one. You spoke like you wanted him to say something. He had a pretty good idea what, and so he did.

“Why don’t you apply?” he asked. “You love books, and you have a background in marketing. I think you’d be perfect.”

“You think?” You asked excitedly. “I don’t have any management experience though…”

“I don’t think they turn you down based off just that,” he argued. “You’re passionate, driven, and super intelligent. They may take the chance. I really don’t think there’s any harm in applying, and if it doesn’t work out than it’s not meant to be.”

There was a slight pause before you answered. “Do you really think so?”

“I really do,” he said strongly.

“I just… It never crossed my mind. Working in a bookstore. Running one myself. But now the idea is out there, I find that I really like it.”

“Then give it a try!” Clint encouraged happily.

“I think I will.” There was an audible smile in your voice. “You’re actually the only one I’ve told. My parents would just be over the moon and tell me to go for it because they want me to stay.”

“Well,” Clint laughed,” I won’t pretend that that didn’t cross my mind.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” you giggled.

“And I appreciate you telling me,” he replied. “But seriously, I think it’s worth a shot. If you’re really passionate about it then you should try it.”

“Wise words,” you teased. “I think I will.”

“Did you do anything else?” Clint asked, turning and wandering towards his bed. “What are you up to now?”

“Just tidying my room,” you answered. “Gosh, I feel like such a teenager saying that. Like I’m right back in high school being told that I can’t go to the party unless everything is tidy.”

“And is it?”

“No. It’s a total mess.”

He laughed at that, sitting down heavily on his bed. “So should I leave you alone so you can get it done?”

“You don’t have to go just yet… But I don’t want to keep you from the party.”

“You’re not keeping me, you’re saving me.” He lay back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling above him.

“That bad, huh?”

“Well, the last one kind of imploded.” _Ultron. Sokovia._ Yup, that was no exaggeration.

Fortunately you thought it was. “Well hopefully this one won’t be like that. Are any of your friends going to be there?”

“Almost all of them, yeah.”

Bruce was still missing.

“You don’t seem super excited?”

You had seemed to pick up on the cautious tone in his voice. He liked that, it showed that you paid attention to him. He also liked that it revealed you were somewhat in sync with him, strange as it may sound. After one date, you had shown an ability to read him. it was impressive, as master assassins are not so easily decoded by other people.

“Things are still a bit off since the last time,” he said truthfully.

It was true. Tony and Steve skirted awkwardly around each other, both still angry about the Ultron-fiasco. Bruce was still missing, which had Natasha almost permanently bad tempered. Thor had a lot on his mind, and seemed somewhat distant all the time. Wanda, while she held an obvious preference for Clint resulting from bonding moments in Sokovia, was still mourning the death of her twin brother and was at best melancholy, and at worst angry. Vision just gave Clint the creeps so he steered clear of him.

The only one who seemed in any way normal was Sam Wilson, Steve’s friend. Clint had taken to hanging out with him a good bit more. He liked the guy and his fun attitude. Plus, it was nice to hang out with someone who had no abilities, no genetic enhancements, or wasn’t rich. Being around such people could get a bit overwhelming, so it was nice to have another normie there who had earned his place through skill alone. Sam seemed to feel the same, and always made time for a few beers with Clint whenever he was around. The pairing had Tony coin the annoying nickname of ‘Bird Bros’ for the duo.

“Well, why don’t you try to be the bridge?” Your voice drew Clint’s attention back to the conversation at hand. “How about you suggest some sort of game or topic of conversation that will draw everyone together?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “not really my area. I’ve always been better at fading into the background.”

“Maybe it’s about time for you to take charge, then,” you argued. “If this bothers you, then work to change it. Be that person to set it all right again. Do any of them have an issue with you?”

Clint considered that for a second. “No, they’re all fine with me.”

It was true. Nobody had an issue with him. He hadn’t carelessly created a killer AI, and then he hadn’t gotten all righteous about why it hadn’t been a good idea. He had simply assessed the situation and gotten on with it. He had known pointing fingers would do no good, and so he didn’t. Heck, he’d even brought them back to his house after Wanda had messed with their minds.

That thought had him worry about the potential implications of one his team dropping by while you were over. Natasha would be easy to explain, her face had been blurred out on all media and internet coverage also. Sam too. Steve, Thor or Tony would be a bit more difficult.

“Alright, if they’re all good with you then you get them together and you get them talking. You can do it, and you’ll be glad you did.”

Clint chuckled, wavering slightly. “Maybe I will…”

 

***

 

“Where’s Hawk?” Tony asked, glancing up as if he could see through flooring and walls to locate his teammate. “He’s missing all the good booze.”

“He said he’d be down in a few,” Natasha shrugged.

She was sitting on a barstool, legs crossed, lazily stirring her martini. She seemed unbothered, except for the tensing of her shoulders and the slight impatient jiggle of her leg. She had been like that since Bruce vanished.

“Well, it’s been a few,” Tony grumbled, putting his whiskey down on the counter. “I’m gonna go see where he is.”

Natasha began to grumble at him, telling him to just leave the man be. Tony strode away without acknowledging her words. He got into the elevator and FRIDAY took him up to the Avengers’ Residential floor. He trekked down the corridor until he reached the room he knew to be Barton’s. He raised his hand to knock, but noticed it was open. Natasha had not closed it properly earlier.

Clint’s voice spilled out from the room. Quietly, Tony reached out and pushed the door open. He stepped into the room and looked around the slight bend to the main area of the bedroom. Clint was lying across his bed, one hand raised and trailing patterns in the air. The other held a phone to his ear. Tony stepped closer, not saying anything.

“Remember, wear old clothes,” the archer was chuckling. “It’s going to be a messy date. Humph, not like tha-”

“Well well well,” Tony piped up, a grin flashing across his face. “What do we have here?”

Clint shot upright at the sound of the billionaire’s voice. His face turned red. The archer twisted, murmuring into the phone.

“Here, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow if you want. Have a good night. Alright, bye. Bye.” He ended the call and glared at his friend. “Yes, Tony?”

“We’re missing you down there,” Tony informed him, smirk plastered on his face. “But I see you have better things to be doing.”

Clint rolled his eyes, but had no answer.

“What’s her name?” Tony asked lightly.

Clint pursed his lips, and didn’t answer once more.

“Is she from around here?”

Silence.

“Where does she work?”

“Do you want her social security number too?” Clint growled, unable to stop himself.

“I can find it myself easily enough. How many dates have you been on?”

“One,” Clint found himself relenting.

“One? And you’re calling her to let her know you got here okay? Man, do you have it _bad_ already!”

“She's… special!” Clint defended himself.

“I take it she doesn't yet know about how special you are,” Tony enquired lightly, though there was a small warning tone in his voice.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I'm not going to tell her unless it's really serious. I'm not stupid. I probably have more enemies than you, and I don't want her to be put at risk. Or myself.”

“Chivalrous and also self-preserving, you're the ideal man, Clint Barton.”

“Oh shut up, you pompous ass.”

Tony chuckled lightly at that. “Right, well all things aside, are you coming or not? I think we need our buffer. It's getting a bit more awkward  than even I can handle.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a bridge,” Clint quipped, rising to his feet. “Let's go then.”

The two men walked down the corridor together, stepping into the lift. They were talking quietly, not about anything special but just chatting. The hum of the party got louder as the lift descended, before it 'dinged!’ and opened on the so-called party floor.

It had been done up again after Ultron’s attack, and now looked the same as it had been before the murderbots smashed it to bits. Tony had added a bit more of a seating area, however. Clint was happy enough with that. It meant he wouldn't have to vie for space to sit too often.

“Clint! I saved you some of this bourbon, man! It's pretty good,” Sam Wilson came jogging over, a slightly tipsy smile on his face.

Clint took the drink he offered, and clapped him on the back  “Thanks, man. How are you?”

“I'm good, I'm good.” Sam replied, taking a gulp from his own glass. “Still looking for Steve's missing person.”

“No leads then?”

“A few, but the dude is like smoke. Always slipping through our fingers. Hey, we could probably use your help for some recon, what do you think, Steve?”

The captain had followed his friend over, a friendly expression in his face.

“Clint,” he greeted warmly, offering him his hand. “It's great to see you. How have you been keeping?”

Tony interrupted before Clint could answer.

“Oh, I think he's been doing pretty well,” the billionaire winked suggestively.

“What's that meant to mean?” Natasha asked as she joined the group.

Clint leaned forward and pulled her into a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek and telling her she looked lovely. When he drew back she was watching him with her brow raised.

“Yeah, Clint, what's that meant to mean?” Sam repeated, sensing something was up.

Clint shook his head in exasperation, knowing what was coming next.

“Clint,” Tony announced, slinging an arm around the archer’s shoulders, “has a _girlfriend_.”

“What?!” Natasha exclaimed.

“Jeez, no need to sound so shocked,” Clint said, feeling slightly offended. “And she's not my girlfriend. We've been on one date.”

“Oh, she's _sooooo_ your girlfriend,” Tony teased. “I caught him upstairs ringing her to let her know he got here okay and telling her next time they were together to be prepared as it'd be _messy_.” The last word was accompanied by a suggestively wink.

“Not in that way!” Clint protested. “I was telling her to wear old clothes as we're gonna be painting!”

“Yeah, you'll be painting something,” Tony cackled.

“Don't be crude,” Steve frowned. “Clint, it's great that you've found someone. I'd be interested in knowing more, if you want to share.”

Clint considered the suggestion, running his gaze over the other people present. Natasha was looking at him with unbridled curiousity and Sam looked interested. It didn't seem like those two and Steve would say anything negative.

“Uh, sure,” he found himself saying. “Do you want to sit down?”

Steve nodded, turning on his heel to lead the way to the seating area. Behind him, everyone fell into line like ducklings. Even Tony followed, which had Clint slightly grimace.

_“Be the bridge,” you had told him. “Find something to talk about.”_

Little had you known it would be you.

They all sat down. Clint sat in the middle of the sofa, Natasha on his left, Tony on his right. Steve sat in the armchair directly opposite him, only a small coffee table between them. Sam sat on a sofa positioned to Tony's right, beside Steve.

“Where's Thor?” Clint asked, trying to it off the inevitable.

“Who knows?” Tony shrugged.

“Please, Clint, tell us,” Steve urged.

Sighing, Clint leaned back. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Where did you meet her?”

“In a park. I was out walking Lucky, you know, my dog. He kind of ran off on me and into her.”

“Hah!” Tony exclaimed. “So the dog really started the conversation, not you!”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve and Natasha chorused.

Realising they had spoken as one they shot each other a surprised look. It soon turned to a friendly grin and Natasha winked at the super soldier. He returned the gesture, and then smiled down into his glass of beer. Secretly, Clint hoped that something would eventually happen between them.

He did like Banner, but the guy had disappeared and Natasha was miserable, blaming herself. Clint would have liked to see her with a stable good guy like Cap, not a good guy who could turn into a very green guy in a matter of seconds. He wanted his best friend safe.

“So what happened next?” Steve preseed, and Clint copped that he had just been sitting there staring at him.

“So I helped her up, talked to her for a bit, and asked if she'd like to come play fetch with me and Lucky. She said yes, and we hung out. I told her I'd get her jacket dry cleaned for her, because Lucky had made it pretty dirty. I put forward the idea of a date, and she accepted.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?” Natasha demanded.

“This only happened on Sunday. We had our date on Tuesday. It’s Thursday now,” Clint said patiently.

Natasha grumbled, but said no more.

“Is she hot?” Sam blurted, unable to stop himself.

Clint laughed, feeling a blush rise on his face. “She's pretty cute.”

“Let's see a picture,” Tony pushed, jostling Clint as he shifted closer to him. “I wanna see what she looks like.”

“I don't have any pictures,” Clint protested truthfully, fending Tony's searching hands off of him.

“Ask her for one, then,” Steve chimed in suddenly. “I'm pretty curious.”

“No,” Clint flushed. “That's weird. She'll know I just want one  to show all of you.”

He shot a look at Natasha, and she nodded, confirming that what he said was indeed correct.

“What's her name?” Tony pressured again, taking out his own phone.

It was notably a lot more high tech than Clint's. Clint wasn't even sure if that phone was on the market, or just some invention of Tony's.

“I'm so not telling you.”

“Oh, come on! We all want to see!”

“No!”

“Alright, Tony, leave him be.” Steve's voice rang out firmly. “Tell us about the date, Clint. We won't put anymore pressure on you, I promise.”

Clint sat stonily for a few moments, trying to read the Captain's earnest expression. Eventually, he nodded curtly. He opened his mouth, and for a few moments no words came as he searched for what to say. Then, he began to speak.

He was so wrapped up in his tale that he didn't notice Tony's hand creeping into his pocket and wrapping around his phone.

 

***

 

You were sitting on your bed, reading a book. The blankets were pooled around your waist, and a cup of hot chocolate sat steaming on your bedside table. You were enjoying a quiet night in.

You had arranged to go out tomorrow with some girls you had been friends with back here in your school days, so you wanted to have a good sleep before you were out late tomorrow. It was bound to indeed be a late night, seeing as you were hitting up more than one bar with different people planning to leave and join along the way. Still, you were looking forward to it. The past few weeks you had mostly wallowed, so it would be nice to leave that behind.

You hadn't heard from Clint in a bit, and while you did indeed check your phone every so often, you weren't particularly perturbed. You know he was at a party, and you hoped he was having fun with his friends. It had been really nice of him to call you, and you had enjoyed hearing his voice. It had only been two days since you'd seen him, but you were already longing for his easy-going company again.

Your phone chimed beside you, and you picked it up. _One new message._ Eagerly, you typed in the unlock code and clicked into it.

**Hi there.**

**Hey**. You typed back. **How's the party going?**

The reply came shortly:

**It seems to be good, if I do say so myself. Before you say anything incriminating or overtly flirtatious though, I'm going to warn you, I'm not Clint.”**

You smiled slightly, shaking your head. Memories of teenage years and texting a guy only to have his friends take his phone entered your mind. _Well, at least this guy was honest._

**Alright. Who are you then?**

The response came quickly. **I'm Tiny.**

It was most likely a typo, but you couldn't resist the urge to make a dig. A devilish smirk crossed your face.

**Wow, that's a lot of private information for a first conversation. It's unfortunate, but what really matters is how you use it! :)**

You only had to wait a few seconds before the phone chimed again. **Shit. *Tony. And haha, at least there's one funny person in your relationship.**

**Clint is funny too.**

**Maybe you think so, but he can't measure up to my astounding wit.**

**If you're so witty, why haven’t I laughed once while talking to you?**

You sent the text, and waited. No immediate reply came this time. You grinned to yourself, and stared at the phone in your hands. No answer came for a good few minutes.

When it did, it read: **You're a worthy verbal sparring opponent. I do hope we get to meet one day. I shall tell Barton I approve... When I tell him I have his phone.**

**Thank you. Still waiting to laugh though.**

**I'll tell you a joke, but first you gotta do something.**

Intrigued, your brow furrowed. **And what's that?** You hoped it wasn't something weird.

**Take a selfie. Nothing strange or anything. We just want to see what you look like and Clint won't let us look you up.**

**Oh, so you're gonna judge me?**

**Exactly.**

You pondered for few minutes. The request was slightly strange, but not so out of the ordinary that it was shocking. Eventually, you decided _what the hell_. It's not like it would be anything incriminating, and this guy hadn't asked for anything _like that_.

Often when your friend was seeing someone you would ask to see a picture of the guy. You couldn't freak out now that the request had been thrown at Clint to see one of you.

Shrugging, you sat up a bit more in the bed. Raking your fingers through your hair, you glanced at the mirror across the room to check what you looked like. Your hair looked great, as it always did on the days that you _didn't_ have to be anywhere.

You texted back. **Okay, Tiny, but I want one of you and Clint too.**

You were in your nice fluffy pyjamas with elephants on them, which helped you feel like this was fine too. You held the phone up above you and smiled, watching yourself in the screen to find an angle you were happy with. When you had found it, you snapped a picture.

It came out good on the first try, which was extremely unusual, so you didn't bother taking it again. You attached the image, and hit send. At the same time as you did, your phone vibrated with another message. A picture message.

You opened it, and were greeted with the sight of Clint's shocked, slightly blurry face. You had the feeling that the camera had been shoved in front of him without warning, if his wide eyes and slightly raised hand was anything to go by. Beside him sat another man with darker features. He looked familiar somehow, but you couldn't entirely tell why as the peace sign he had thrown up obscured the lower half of his face.

 **PAPPED.** You texted back, referring to Clint's look of horrified surprise.

Your phone buzzed. **Lppkin gius nicr pkjsjxsz**

_What?_

 

***

 

“Give me back my phone!” Clint yelled, lunging for Tony.

The billionaire reeled backwards, holding it behind him. He was fending the archer off with his free hand, while Clint scrambled around desperately. However, years of combat training had Clint make quick work of getting through Tony's defense. Managing to push the man's flailing arms aside, he reached for the phone.

His fingers closed around it, and then it disappeared just before he could fully take hold of it. His head snapped up, focusing on the new player in the tussle over the phone. Natasha turned smartly on her heel, staring at the screen.

“Nat!” Clint bleated, knowing better than to try grab it from her.

Her stiletto heels looked really pointy. He had had a fork stabbed into his hand before, and didn't want a similar experience if he could help it.

Without a word, she passed the phone to Steve. The Captain looked guilty as he took it, but was obviously unable to bridle his curiosity and so looked at the screen. Sam leaned across the arm rest to look in with him.

“No nudes,” he jokily sighed, causing Tony to snort.

“Guys,” Clint groaned.

“Oh, don't be complaining,” Natasha said. “She's cute. And she was able to beat Tony up with words. I haven't seen anyone else able to shut him down as quickly.”

Clint felt a simmer of pride rise in his chest. Natasha did not give her stamp of approval unless she really meant it, and it did not happen often. While you had not met, what she had seen so far she liked.

“Yeah,” Tony piped up. “She seems… she seems pretty cool in fact. Wicked taste in pyjamas. Never thought I'd say it, but good job, Barton.”

“Thanks,” Clint inclined his head, “but I'm still pissed about what an invasion of privacy that was.”

Tony waved him off. Steve leaned over the coffee table and handed the phone back to Clint.

“She seems nice,” he said softly. “I agree with Tiny.”

“Oh no!” Tony held his hands up in the air. “That is _not_ becoming a thing!”

 

***

 

By Sunday night, Clint was back in his house. He'd arranged for you to come over at around 2pm the following day, so he had plenty of time to get some sleep.

It seemed that the topic of you had somewhat brought everyone together. You had indeed given him the idea, but he doubted you had realised it would be the idea of you that got everyone curious enough to stop fighting. When the party ended, they stayed up late. Everyone was in good spirits throughout the visit, and a lot of the awkwardness faded. He was thankful for that, as previously stated, New York was stressful enough for Clint.

He had gotten to video call you once in his time over there. He had pretended to the others that he was taking a nap, but he was pretty sure they knew what he was really up to. Definitely Natasha did, but she didn't say anything. No one intruded anyhow.

He knew they wouldn't, even Tony. As careless as the billionaire was about his own identity, he wouldn't give away Clint's. He was glad he wasn't interrupted. Steve Rogers or Thor walking into his room would have been too hard to explain. Natasha may have just made you uncomfortable. He wondered what you’d think of them, and him, if you knew.

So as he unpacked his suitcase, mentally checking off that he had everything for your date tomorrow, Clint couldn't help but feel excited. The whole thing had been going uncommonly well. Conversation still flowed easily and without any awkwardness, and you'd gotten into the habit of sending each other pictures of what you were up too. It was nothing sexual, but he did like seeing your face populating his camera roll.

You had even run into Lucky on a walk with the doggy hotel guy. You'd taken a snap of you cuddling into the dog, arm around him, grinning as he licked your face. Clint hoped the day came where he might be able to make it his phone wallpaper without it seeming too creepy. He was going to pick Lucky up in the morning, as it had been too late to call over tonight.

He was used to late night flights and minimal sleep, but he wanted to get a decent rest before you came over. He wanted to be as awake and alert as possible for his time with you. It was around eleven, and he wanted to get up at around eight to shower, get Lucky, and get everything in order. He texted you goodnight, and you responded quickly. He smiled as he read the message, reminding him of your deal to both wear purple.

He responded to also remind you to wear old clothes, and turned over to turn off the lights. He found it difficult to get asleep, as he was pretty excited. He knew it was kind of ridiculous for a grown-ass man to be getting so excited about a second date, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t often he’d gotten to this stage.

Everything he had done, all the opening doors and draping his jacket around you was stuff he had picked up from movies. And heck, Clint Barton watched a lot of movies. He wasn’t completely sure if it all would work because it was from, well, you know, _movies,_ but luckily you seemed to appreciate it. Or at least you found his efforts to be a gentleman endearing. He had figured you probably liked that stuff, seeing as you were so into Cap.

That thought gave him some discomfort. He hadn’t mentioned to anyone that you had confessed a fondness for Steve amongst all the Avengers. That would lead to a lot of mocking by Tony, and it might also make things uncomfortable with Steve himself. The thought almost made Clint cringe because he had to wonder that if something happened, that this went on, if he told you who he was, that you may use him to get to Steve. You didn’t seem like the type to use him a relationship springboard, but Clint knew people liked who they liked, and sometimes people were simply not what they seemed.

Clint groaned, lifting his hands to his head and running them through his hair in agitation. _No._ He wasn’t going to start thinking like that. That was his self-destructive behavioural tendencies talking, something his therapist had told him he had. Apparently, Clint often sabotaged good things for himself because he couldn’t cope with the stress he felt when actually dealing with them. It had started after Loki had taken control of his mind and made him commit countless terrible acts. Yeah, that had really messed him up a lot.

He fought the urge to pick up the phone and cancel, to say he had gotten a stomach bug, or his jet lag was really bad, or some other nonsense. He then actually picked up the phone and started to type one of such texts, but then he managed to stop. He sighed, and put the phone face down on the nightstand. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep yet, so instead he got out of bed and threw on a pair of sweats.

Flicking on the lights, he headed through the house. He grabbed his khaki jacket and lazily shrugged it on as he opened the front door. His footsteps thudded as he headed down the porch. He turned left, and trudged through the dirt towards the barn behind the house. He dug the keys from his pocket, and opened the heavy padlock. The door opened when he pushed the handle down. Stepping into the dark room, he flicked the switch on the wall beside him.

Light flooded the room, illuminating the dark hardwood floors, white walls, and a large sparring mat in the centre of the room. A punching bag hung from the ceiling in a corner, and a weights rack was placed against the wall beside it. On the other side of the barn, it also stocked a treadmill, a cross-trainer, and a rowing machine. Behind the sparring mat lay three archery targets. They were all way too big, and obviously way too stationary to test Clint’s skill in any way whatsoever, but when he wanted to relax and let his mind wander it did the trick.

However, at this moment he did not need his mind to wander, he needed to tire himself out. He went over to the bench beside the punching bag and shrugged off his jacket. He laid it down on the bench, and then picked up the boxing gloves. Somewhat awkwardly, as he only had one hand free after putting on the first one, he used his teeth to close the strap of the second one. Clint raised his gaze to the ceiling, and loudly said:

“Music on.”

Immediately, a song began playing. Imagine Dragons, 'Thunder.’

Despite himself, he smiled up at the ceiling. After he had sheltered everyone at the barn during the Ultron attack, Tony had returned sometime afterwards and installed a voice activated speaker system into Clint’s home gym. He had also modernised it. And by ‘modernised it,’ Stark had bought and put all of the equipment in there. Before it was just straw and some rusty old targets. Clint had told him it was too much, he didn’t want charity, but Tony told him it wasn’t. It was a thank you.

Jogging slightly to warm his muscles up, Clint made his way over to the punching bag. He held his fists up in front of his face like he was covering himself from some imaginary enemy, still dancing on the balls of his feet. His arm lashed out, and he made solid contact with the punching bag. It swung slightly. It was heavy, but Clint knew he packed a punch. He stayed like that for another hour and half, hitting with all of his might. By the end of it, he had a line of sweat running down his back, dampening his t-shirt. It shone on his forehead, and he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He was tired, and out of breath.

Deciding it was time to try and sleep again, he took off the gloves and left the barn, being sure to lock the door behind him. He headed back into the house, and up to his room. Pulling his t-shirt over his head, he prepared to clamber into bed. It was only when he caught a whiff of himself that he realised how much he truly reeked of sweat. Knowing it was kind of gross to get into bed like that, he sighed. He peeled off his clothes as he made his way into his ensuite bathroom. The floor creaked underneath them as he left a trail of clothes behind, dropping them as he removed them. After he showered, he finally climbed back into bed. He was too exhausted to overthink things at this stage, and so he quickly fell asleep.

 

***

 

You were up by 10am, not able to sleep for much longer. You’d gone to bed around midnight, and so ten hours of sleep was definitely enough. Knowing that you had some time to wait before you should start getting ready to go to Clint’s, you threw on some workout gear and pulled out your runners. Putting your headphones into your ears, you cranked up the volume. The sound of Beyonce’s ‘Run the World’ filled your ears as you closed the front door behind you. You skipped down the steps, and then set off down the driveway and out onto the lane. You dodged the pothole, and continued on your run.

You arrived back at the house half an hour later, sweaty and panting, but happy enough. The crisp morning air and autumn sun was nice and refreshing, and it looked like it was going to be a good day out. You ate some breakfast, a sesame seed bagel and downed a cup of coffee. You also had some orange juice, leaning against the counter as you drank it. Afterwards, you took a shower, did your hair, and then started to apply a small amount of make-up. Nothing heavy, just some mascara, brow pencil, and lip gloss.

You weren’t too fussy about clothes this time. You had been told to wear old clothes, something that you wouldn’t mind getting ruined. It was a good thing that you were pretty much a pack-rat when it came to outfits. You had tried to clean out your closet before, but even if you hadn’t worn something in years you somehow found a reason to keep it. You also kept in mind the whole ‘purple’ rule.

In the end, the most suitable thing you found was an old pair of ripped, faded blue jeans, and a purple tank you hadn’t worn in years. Despite the whole ‘casual’ thing, you couldn’t help but accessorize slightly, donning a long gold necklace that stopped just below your breasts. You grinned at yourself in the mirror. You felt like Clint may get a kick out of the t-shirt. It was a bit of a strange thing to wear, but you thought he’d appreciate it.

You sat down to read for a bit in order to pass the time, but couldn’t really concentrate. You still had another hour or so before you had to go to Clint’s. Instead of simply waiting around, you decided to plan out something that you wanted to do tonight. Clint had some self-imposed monopoly on dates, which you weren’t going to let him away with. You wanted to plan a cute date too.

Googling a few ideas, you settled on two. For the first one, you needed to:

1). Steal from your brother.

2). Go to the supermarket.

Which you did. Once you had gone to the shops and gotten what you needed, you texted Clint.

**Hey, can you send me your address? I’m ready to come over, if that works. :)**

The reply came swiftly enough: **Hey, _____! Yeah, coming now works! Shout when you get here, I probably will be somewhere outside.**

The next Whatsapp message came through, which contained his location. You opened it up, and let Google Maps do its thing. Putting your car into gear, you set off. Clint’s house really wasn’t far from your parent’s one, probably just over five minutes from the time you would have left their driveway. Though it was around fifteen from the supermarket though.

You drove down a dirt track road, trees branching out over head. The leaves blocked out most of the sun, leaving only patches of light decorating the road. Google indicated for you to turn right, and so you did. This lane was even smaller than the other, and you could could hear branches scraping along the side of your car. You wondered how his Range Rover even fit through this.

Just when you thought the dense tunnel of bushes would never end, it opened up into an expanse of open space. The car jerked as it rolled out onto the dirt path. Before you lay open green fields, tall trees, and a quaint little farmhouse in the middle of the expanse. It was painted cream, with dark green shutters and You could see a small barn behind and slightly to the right of the house, while what seemed to be a newly constructed garage was adjoined to the house’s left.

A mound of logs, some chopped and others still cylindrical, sat out the front of the porch. A picnic bench sat off to the left of the pile of firewood. The track curved around the front of the house, and down the past to the garage. An American flag hung from the porch, fluttering in the wind. You slowed the car, until it crawled around the house. Clint’s Range Rover sat where the track stopped, a rusty old pick-up truck parked next to it. You hadn’t realised he had two cars, though it made sense. You couldn't see him driving around a farm in his shiny Range Rover.

Putting the car into park, you killed the ignition and swung the door open. A breeze greeted you as you stepped out, ruffling your hair. The door slammed behind you, and you spun on your heel as you strode towards the farmhouse, taking it all in. It was definitely still a bit of a fixer-upper, but you found you liked it.

A sudden, loud bark caught your attention. Your eyes focused on a brown dog, standing on the porch. Obviously not recognizing you from such a distance, he let out a loud growl, throwing his head back as he yowled at you. You stopped, an amused look coming onto your face. Folding your arms, you watched him continue to bark at you for a few seconds, warning you to stay back. Eventually, you decided to put him at ease.

Smiling, you called out. “Hello puppy!”

Immediately, the bark ceased. The last one even died in his throat when he was midway through. He stared at you for a moment. His tail, which was held aloft in the air, waved once at you. He had recognised your voice, but wasn’t completely sure.

So then you spoke again.  “Lucky! Hi there, lovely boy!”

HIs head tilted, and his tail began to wag rapidly. With another loud ‘woof!’ he was shooting off the porch and bounding towards you. You laughed at he ran at you full tilt. The laugh died when you saw he had no intention of stopping, and you remember that he didn’t usually stop. Just before he reached you, you threw yourself out of the way. Hitting the ground hard, all the air rushed out of you. It was still better than having Lucky collide with you with the force of a freight train, however.

The dog sped past you, before skidding on the ground. He turned to look back at you, and then happily leapt towards you. A wet nose snuffled around as he tried to lick your face. You batted him away, laughing as he slobbered on your hands. His entire body shook along with his tail.

“Meeting like this is becoming our thing,” another voice chuckled.

Your eyes hot up happily, focusing on the man striding towards you. From the direction, it seemed like he had just left the garage beside the house. He was wearing a pair of dark denim trousers, which were covered in paint stains. A purple t-shirt with a picture of a doughnut on it stretched across his broad chest. He was wearing a black and white checkered shirt over his t-shirt. It was unbuttoned, and hung down loosely, the sides flapping as he walked. His outfit looked so totally mismatched, but you still found him really cute.

The appreciation must have shown on your face as when he saw your expression he straightened, becoming a bit more self-confident before your gaze. He grinned at you, eyes twinkling.

“Hey you,” you murmured softly.

He stooped to offer you a hand, and you took it. Strong, calloused fingers closed around yours, and he pulled you upright, his free hand going to cup your opposite elbow as he helped you stand. Once you were on your feet once more, you shot him a beaming grin. He returned your smile with a fond look. After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.

His hands came to rest on the small of your back, holding you closely but not too tightly. You felt his breath ruffle your ear as he lowered his head, dropping his face down into the spot where your neck met your shoulder. Him being so close to that spot had your breath hitch slightly. Where your neck met your shoulder had always kind of been a sweet spot for you.

“I missed you,” he said softly, sounding a little embarrassed at the admission.

You couldn’t help the grin that crossed your face at the words. Your arms slid over his back, wrapping around his body. You leaned forward, so your head rested on his chest. He smelled like freshly cut pine wood and cologne. Clean and natural. It was a nice smell. You found it strangely reassuring.

Paws thudded on your back as Lucky, annoyed at being ignored for so long, leapt up on you. You staggered slightly, falling into Clint’s chest. Immediately, the man before you released his tight hold. He moved around you slightly, admonishing his dog. One warm arm, however, stayed around your waist.

“Sorry,” Clint smiled, turning his attention back to you. “I guess he missed you too.”

Taking your hand, he swung his other arm out as he began to lead you towards his house. You almost tripped over a clump of grass, cursing slightly as you did. Clint chuckled, and slowed down slightly so that you could watch where you were walking.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, realising the significance of his t-shirt. “Team Purple!”

Your hand shot out, palm straight. You held it up in the air, waiting.

He laughed, realising that you had also abided by the promise you had made on your last date. “Oh, yeah! Team Purple!”

He clapped his hand off yours, and a satisfying clap ran through the air.

“We still high-five well together,” you informed him.

“Hell yeah we do,” he nodded, extremely pleased with your words.

The two of you shared an easy smile, and then you spoke again.

“So,” you said. “How was the weekend? I know we talked like every day, but I’m trying to get the conversation rolling.”

“It was surprisingly good,” he answered with an air of honesty around him. “For the most part, everyone got over their differences. That’s down to you though. I followed your advice. A topic came up that drew everyone together.”

“What was it?” You asked as you reached the porch.

The wooden steps creaked underfoot as you walked up them. On the porch sat a porch swing, and a woven coffee table in front of it. The swing looked over the expanse of fields around the house, and out into the woods beyond. It was a pretty spectacular place, with a killer view of the mountains in the distance.

“It was… Well, it was you,” Clint replied slightly awkwardly.

you could see him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction.

“Oh?” Your voice was calm. “Why me?”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Clint explained hurriedly. “I wasn’t planning on mentioning you just yet, but then, y’know, Tony.”

He said the name like it explained everything. You supposed in a way it did. His friend had stolen his phone to text you and asked for selfies, if that didn’t scream ‘The Joker of the Group’ than nothing else really did.

“I don’t mind!” You reassured him. “Though I hope only good things were said?” That part was said teasingly, accompanied by a gentle elbow into your date’s side.

His head turned and his eyes fixed on yours. He suddenly seemed serious. “I don’t have anything bad to say.”

“Yet,” you joked.

“Yet,” he confirmed with a smirk. “So, this is me.”

He pushed open his front door, and you stepped in after him. He released your hand and moved into the hallway, throwing his arms out and spinning on his heel. You giggled at his antics, but then also turned, looking at his house’s interior with interest. It was clean, with white walls and wood furnishings.

You glanced in the door to your left. It seemed to be living room. He seemed to have kind of a lumberjack vibe going on, the house was furnished as if it was once big hunting cabin. There was a red sofa with flannel-patterned cushions, and when you looked up you were greeted by the sight of wooden beams. Walking in there and seeing the furniture, you definitely knew it was a single guy’s home. Still, it had kind of a rugged charm to it. Like Clint himself did.

“Kitchen’s down here,” Clint told you.

You turned back around to him and smiled, reaching for his hand. Pleased, he eagerly took it back in his and then led you down the hall towards the back of the house. You glanced around as you went, taking in the slightly uneven flooring, the stairs leading to the upper floor, the dust dotting the shelves. You didn’t mind it though. It was like something from a book. It was peaceful.

The kitchen was bright and cheerful. You eyed it with interest, walking slowly by all the countertops. Your fingers trailed across the smooth surfaces. Over the sink, a long window looked out into the forest behind. Mountaintops rose over the trees, and now you stopped and stared you could see that they were slightly tinged in snow. You noticed a large pond slightly off to the right behind the house.

“Tadpoles?” You asked, nodding towards it.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “That was where it happened. The frogs don’t come back there anymore.”

“I don’t blame them,” you snorted.

Clint laughed, shaking his head. “Before we head out, do you want anything? Some water? A quick snack?”

“I may take some water,” you smiled. “Thanks.”

He nodded to himself, and then scurried off. Cabinet doors banged as he retrieved a glass, and then he returned to the sink to fill it. He handed it to you, and you thanked him again. Taking a drink, you let the liquid swirl in your mouth for a moment, hydrating it, before you swallowed. Clint had taken an apple from the fruit bowl, and took a large bite. He ate in silence, waiting until you finished you drink, before throwing the half-eaten apple into the bin.

“Ready to go?” He asked, washing his hands quickly.

“Yeah, lead the way!”

He opened the back door, and ushered you out. Lucky tried to follow, but Clint closed the door, keeping the dog in the house. As you moved out onto the wooden steps, a strange noise greeted your ears. When you twisted your head, you saw a mesh wire fence wrapped around a wooden hut.

“Your chickens!” You exclaimed excitedly, rushing down the steps.

Clint laughed loudly at your exuberance, following you down. You raced to the pen, and then turned to him. You were hopping from one foot to another in barely contained excitement. The hens clucked around, completely disinterested. They were very used to people at this point.

“Can I hold one?”

“Sure! Which one?”

You thought for a moment. “Cluck Norris.”

“Excellent choice.” He stepped forward, and slid back the little bolt that held the gate closed.

Ducking in, he reached forward and grabbed one chicken. It was pretty orange in comparison to the rest. While it clucked loudly when his hands closed around it, it didn’t struggle or attempt to escape. He shuffled away from the pen, chicken clutched to his chest with one hand, and used the other to close the gate behind him. Then he stood up, and offered you the chicken.

You stepped forward eagerly to take it, though its beady eyes were slightly unnerving. Clint carefully passed it to you, instructing you on how to properly hold it. Once it was in your arms, he slowly paced around you, correcting your hand positioning and such. The chicken just squawked calmly, seemingly content to just have its feathers petted.

“Would you have let me hold Attila if I’d wanted?” You asked.

Clint shook his head. “I can’t even hold Attila. The only one she’s ever let touch her is my friend, Natasha.”

You wondered if by ‘friend’ he meant ‘ex,’ but it was too awkward to ask now. Plus, it wasn’t really any of your business (yet). So you simply left it be, only pausing to ask some more questions about chicken-maintenance. After another ten minutes, Clint took the chicken back from you and put her into the pen with the others. He pointed the rest out to you, all except Albert Eggenstein, the rooster, who he had to keep in another pen.

From there, he let you to the garage. You waited by the door as he strode in, searching for something amongst the rows and rows of shelves. Eventually, he made an “ah ha!” noise, and stepped forward. HIs body was blocked up all the stuff littering the garage, and so for a good few seconds all you could see was his back. When he stepped back, he was brandishing something that you hadn’t expected.

A massive saw.

Catching sight of your slightly alarmed expression, he held out his hands placatingly. “Not what it looks like. Swear to God, not what it looks like.”

“Okay, so what actually is it?” You tried to appear casual, leaning against the doorframe of the garage. In reality, your hands had crept back to grab hold of the edge of the garage door, ready to slam it.

Clint didn’t give you that vibe, but better safe than sorry. And by ‘sorry’ you meant ‘murdered on a second date.’

“Alright, remember that painting-archery thing I told you about?” He said earnestly.

You nodded.

“Well, I figured since you seemed so interested that that’d be cool to do today. I thought it’d be a nice take to go and make our own bows too, make it really unique, you know? I’m aware now that I didn’t fully think this through.”

“The saw is…”

“To cut down branches. We can leave it if you want. Don’t feel obligated. I didn’t tend to make you uncomfortable.”

His bright eyes were earnest, his mouth twisted down in a slight grimace. You could see that he was feeling upset with himself. You weren’t always so trusting, but the man radiated sincerity. And as you’d said before, you had a pretty good gut instinct.

“No,” you laughed slightly, “it’s fine.”

He still smiled downcast, lips tugged downwards. Suddenly, he brightened and spun back to the shelf. He grabbed something from it. This time the item was small, and his large hand obscured it.

“Here,” he took the cap off a small bottle, and held it towards the ground.

He sprayed it, and soon a strong pungent smell filled the small garage. Your nose wrinkled. Clint popped the cap back onto the bottle and stooped down. The bottle rolled from his hand, and came to rest at your feet. You eyed it confusion, and then looked inquiringly at Clint.

“It’s bear spray,” he told you eagerly. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I don’t know if it’ll put you a bit more at ease or what.”

You laughed, but shook your head. It was too awkward to take it.

“Pick it up,” he urged. “Please. I want you to feel comfortable. I already feel like a huge ass. Way to go, Clint. Pull out a saw on the second date. That'll make her like you.”

You rolled your eyes, but then kicked it away. You strode into the garage, only stopping when you were right in-front of him. He examined you through troubled eyes. Rising to your tip-toes, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His breathing hitched a little. Your hand shot out and you took the saw from his now-loose grip.

Flashing him a cheeky smirk, you simply said. “How about I just take the saw?”

He inclined his head, and motioned for you to leave the garage, grabbing some thick green string on his way out. He led you out into the fields, pointing things out to you as you went. The walk ended over at a tall tree. It had a number of low hanging branches on it, easy for you to reach. He instructed you on where to saw, and then held the branch steady for you as you did. You appreciated that he hadn’t expressed any doubt in you not being able to cut the wood yourself.

Soon you were done, holding a thin stick of wood in your hands. You deposited it carefully on the nearby ground, and then did the same for Clint as he cut his own branch. Muscles rippled as he cut, and you admired how they moved on his arm.

“So,” he said, “did you apply to the bookstore?”

“Yeah, I did,” you smiled. It was lovely that he had remembered. A warm feeling grew in your stomach. “I just haven’t heard back yet.”

“You will,” he said confidently. “They’d be mad not to want for at least an interview.”

You blushed, touched by the conviction in his voice. “I really hope so. I think it’d be nice.”

The branch snapped and Clint picked up his stick and examined it happily. Feeling you watching him, he turned to smile at you. “We’re not gonna do anything complicated like stripping off the top layer. Let’s just keep it simple for your first bow. Can you hand me the twine?”

Briefly searching on the ground, you picked up what you had thought to be string and handed it to him. Taking out a penknife, he cut a small notch in the two ends of the stick. He looped the twine around the top of the stick twice, before bringing it up and through the notch he had made. From there he ran the twine to the bottom, through the notch he had made on that end, and then wrapped it around the stick twice. Using the penknife again, he cut the twine. He tied the loose ends on both sides, and then stepped forward to show you the end result.

You copied his instructions, and soon you had a bow of your own. It was nothing fancy, and the wood was a bit rough on your hands, but you were pretty happy with it. You fake-shot it a number of times as you headed back towards the house. Clint ran ahead to deposit the saw back into the garage, and you found yourself wandering over to the pond. Reeds fanned around it, swaying in the breeze.

It was very tranquil.

You stared into its depths, and your own reflection gazed back at you. Suddenly it was joined by another figure. Clint. You hadn’t heard him come back. It seemed that he could be as quiet as mist.

For a moment, both of you stared into the water. Then you spoke.

“You should get koi.”

“Koi?” He was startled by the unexpected announcement.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “the big pond fish. They’re pretty.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he laughed. “Why koi?”

You shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’ve seen them in YouTube videos. They’re cool.”

“I’ll think about it,” Clint promised.

He was lying. He had no intention of getting koi.

After a bit longer you headed back towards his house. Instead of taking you to the garage, Clint instead led you to the little barn out the back of his house. Digging keys out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and stepped into it. You followed. For a moment it was too dark to see anything, but then Clint flicked a switch and the lights came on.

You glanced around, taking in all the gym equipment.

“This is seriously nice,” you told him. “Wow.”

He shrugged modestly. “A friend had it renovated as a gift.”

“Tell your friends I’d consider us friends to,” you said, wandering further into the barn. A thought occurred to you, and you stopped to shoot him an inquisitive look. “Was it Tiny?”

Clint had to laugh. “Yeah, it was him.”

You nodded to yourself, and then your eyes focused on the targets at the end of the room. Plastic sheeting had been paid down on the floor underneath them, and also taped onto the walls behind. On closer inspection, you saw that they weren’t targets, but instead they were canvases on stands. Multi-coloured balloons were taped onto the blank material, the pinks and blues and greens in stark contrast to the rest of the room’s grey and white design.

“Is this what we’re working with?” You asked excitedly.

There was a wild grin on your face, and Clint felt himself swell with pride. You looked so happy because of him. Because of something he’d done. Maybe he wasn’t totally useless after all.

“This is it,” he chuckled. “Let the games begin!”

“Katniss,” you rolled your eyes. “I should have guessed.”

He poked his tongue out at you, and you winked back. Then you caught sight of something else. Clint watched as you strode back over to the wall by the door, picking up a bag of whittled arrows. You slid one free and eyed it admiringly. Feeling Clint watching you, you met his gaze.

“Well,” you murmured, “wouldn’t you be a handy guy to have around in a zombie apocalypse?”

“Or any other dystopian situation,” Clint shrugged smoothly.

He stepped forward and plucked the arrow from you teasingly, twirling it between his fingers. “Shall we begin? Show me your form.”

He was going into instructor mode. He’d often spent some time training new recruits for SHIELD and it was hard not to have that resurface. Especially when it came to archery.

You shot him a coy look, and then leaned forward to take the arrow back from him. As you did, Clint couldn’t help it. His eyes flickered down your body. However, the writing on your tank had him pause.

“Why does you top say ‘Bride Tribe?’

For a moment you seemed confused, until you looked down to see what you were wearing again.

“Oh!” You laughed. “This was from one of my high school friend’s wedding years ago. I was a bridesmaid. Obviously. You told me to wear something old, so I did.”

Clint shook his head. “You are so strange sometimes.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked.

Clint got the feeling you might be sightly testing him. “No.”

“Good answer,” you smirked.

“Now, come on,” he teased, beckoning to you. “Show me what you got?”

“Alright,” you flirted, flouncing over to stand where indicated.

“Draw,” he instructed smoothly, eyeing you intensely.

You notched the arrow, and took a deep breath. As you inhaled you pulled the bow taunt, lifting it as you did. You closed one eye, using the other to position your arrow. Instead of giving out any indicator of approval, he instead frowned and began to approach you. His gaze was critical, and you knew what was coming.

“I know how to aim a bow,” you giggled, sparing him an amused look.

“That may be true, but your stance is all wrong,” he said evenly.

His hand settled on your waist, as one of his feet urged yours further apart. Instead of brushing off his instructions, you followed them. It wasn’t often that he was so commanding, and you kind of like Dominant Clint.

“Feet shoulder width apart,” he murmured, hands now rising to brush your arms.

He straightened your elbow, and adjusted how you were gripping the bow. You could feel his strong chest behind your back, pressing almost flush against it. His body was warm, and you couldn’t get how good he smelled out of your head.

His hand gently held your elbow, supporting it as you took aim. You tried to concentrate on the target in-front of you. On the multi-coloured balloons stuck to it. Clint told you to breathe deeper, not realising his proximity was making it hard for you to relax. His hot breath puffed against your ear, and you had to swallow heavily.

“Release,” he whispered.

The arrow thudded into the target, sending a spray of blue paint into the air.

“Good job!” Clint exclaimed.

“Thanks,” you laughed, stepping away from him to put some distance between the two of you.

“Think you’ll be able to do the next one by yourself?” He smirked.

You snorted in indignation. “I could have done that one just fine. But someone had to be a manly man and help what they perceived to be a damsel in distress.”

Clint shook his head, shooting you a fond look. “There’s a lot of things I’d call you, damsel in distress isn’t one of them.”

You ducked your head, feeling extremely pleased by his words.

So the archery continued. Clint moved to shoot/paint his own canvas, while you kept up with your work on yours. Talking and laughing filled the air. Occasionally even the wayward arrow cheekily shot at the other’s canvas. In the end, they just looked like masses of colour streaked randomly across the page. Exactly as you had been expecting. But you still loved it.

However, one paint balloon was left on yours. No matter how much you shot at it, you simply couldn’t seem to hit it. Clint laughed at you miserable attempts, so in the end you just sighed and threw your hands into the air in frustration. Stalking towards the canvas, you stopped to glare at the balloon.

Clint stepped up beside you, still smirking. “Ah, the balloon that beat you.”

“Shut up,” you groaned. “I haven’t had all your practise!”

“It’s natural skill,” he shrugged. “I am a naturally gifted man.”

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, rounding on him.

“Yeah,” he said smoothly

A devilish glint was in his eyes. You stepped forward, lifting a finger to trail it down his chest. His stilled at the contact, watching you intensely.

“You know,” you said softly, drumming your fingers on his chest. “I’m pretty gifted myself.”

“Oh yeah?” He breathed, leaning forward slightly. “In what?”

“IN THE ART OF SEDUCTION!” You screeched, causing him to jerk back in shock.

Before he could react, your hand shot out. The paint balloon was ripped from the canvas. You danced back, swinging it in a wild arc. It made contact with his shoulder, breaking upon impact. Paint sprayed all over him, yellow coating his body. You yelled in mischievous glee, skipping backwards.

Clint spluttered, spitting out the paint that had gone into his mouth. His gaze met yours. The right hand side of his face was completely covered in paint.

“You’re so dead,” he told you, a vicious smirk on his face.

You turned to run, but he shot after you. You felt his strong arms close around your waist, dragging you backwards. You struggled, laughing and yelling, but he was so much stronger. He spun you to face him and then yanked you into his chest. You yelled, trying to push away from him. He buried his face into yours, rubbing the paint-covered side of it all over your forehead, hair, and down the left side of your face. Your hands flew up to stop him, and then as you struggled you left paint marks all down his shirt.

A few minutes later, he lifted his head back, laughing loudly. The grin revealed gleaming white teeth. You mock-glared at him, but couldn’t keep it up. Your hands went to your face as you devolved into a fit of giggles. He looked at you affectionately as you did. They died down, and then you became aware of something.

Clint’s hands were still on your waist, resting on your lower back. Your own hands fell from your mouth to brush against his chest, eventually settling against his strong pecs. They were hard, causing a knot of desire to begin to grow in your stomach. Your eyes ran down his body, drinking in the sight and feel of it. When you met his gaze again, the earlier intensity was back. But it was so much stronger now.

Tension flooded the room, hot and heavy. You could feel his increased heartbeat under his thin shirt. His skin was so warm, or maybe it was just you?  He swallowed, Adam’s Apple bobbing, and your eyes followed the movement. You could see his pupils dilate.

“I don’t want to cross any boundaries,” he whispered softly.

“Then let me,” you responded, leaning forward.

Your lips brushed his, and a tingle of electricity jolted inside you. His lips were warm, and slightly dry, but it was still exhilarating. You drew back and looked at him from under your lashes, wondering if what you had just done was okay. His breathing accelerated, desire flooding his eyes. He leaned forward again, hands tightening on your back as he pulled you into him

He kissed you this time, more firmly and sure than you had been before. His kiss was firm, but gentle. The man seemed to know what he was doing, and you could feel a flush rising throughout your skin. His mouth caught yours, harder again this time. Hungrily. His hands rose to run through your hair, and you almost melted into him.

It began to get hotter. Your hands wracked down his back, clawing into his skin. Another jolt of heat ran through your body as his tongue slide along your bottom lip. You opened your mouth to him, and his hand cupped your face as he attacked your mouth hungrily, his tongue beginning to play against yours.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging it lightly. He let out a low growl, and all of a sudden you were being walked backwards. Your back collided with the wall, causing you to jerk in surprise at the unexpected contact. Clint pressed against you, his touch getting rougher. You could feel a growing hardness in his pants from where he pressed into you. You bit his lower lip and he growled again, causing you to moan softly.

You wanted to go through with it. You’d never liked anyone this much after two dates. BUt you couldn’t.

“Stop,” you gasped as his hands tugged on the hem of your t-shirt. “Stop.”

Immediately, he stopped kissing you. He didn’t move away, however. He simply sighed, and pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes opened, and you were glad to see they held no anger, just understanding.

“Too much too soon,” he said knowingly, and you nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong. That was amazing. But I’m not quite ready for the other stuff yet.”

He smiled at you, his hand cupping your face. He leaned forward, and you thought he was going to kiss you once again. His lips landed on your nose, giving it a soft and affectionate peck.

“I’m not upset,” he told you. “I have no reason to be. If anything, I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

“I did too,” you agreed, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

He moved away from you, and you felt an instant loss of warmth when his body was no longer in contact with yours. However, his hand shot out to take hold of yours. His thumb rubbed your skin soothingly.

“Want to go watch a movie or something?” He asked. “I have doritos.”

“That sounds good,” you agreed. Your arms were surprisingly tired after all the archery. “I had brought two marshmallow guns and marshmallows, but I think I’m a bit too tired to be running around with those.”

“You brought what?” He laughed disbelievingly.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I wanted to plan a bit of the date too. I took them from my brother's room. And then I went to the store. I figured we could also build a fort too. And watch a movie in there. I have snacks also.”

“You mean like a pillow fort,” Clint clarified with a raised brow.

“Yeah,” you felt a bit embarrassed. “With blankets and couch cushions and all. We don’t have to if you don't want to…”

Clint’s wide eyed staring was making you uncomfortable. He swallowed, and you cringed slightly. You were afraid he’d call you childish or silly. Instead, he said something very different.

“Where have you been all my life?”

 

***

 

Half an hour later, you were sitting in your newly constructed pillow fort. It extended from the living room sofa over to the TV, and the foundations were constructed with precarious brushes held aloft by piles of cushions, and a number of kitchen chairs. The living room throw blanket was used as the roof, and you were pretty happy with the overall effect. The TV was on in-front of you, you had decided to watch ‘Up.’ Filled with snacks and soda, your fort was literally an eight year old’s dream.

You were still covered in paint, having tried and failed to wash it off your face in the bathroom sink. You knew it’d probably take a hard scrub with a loofah in the shower to rid yourself of it. Your clothes, however, were okay. Clint had given you one of his t-shirts. It had a reference on it that you immediately understood to be from Game of Thrones: ‘I drink and I know things.’ You had kept your jeans on as they weren’t that bad. Clint was in a normal pair of jeans, black t-shirt, and unbuttoned red and black flannel shirt. Like you had earlier noted, he seemed to have a kind of lumberjack thing going on.

You popped a dorito into your mouth, just as a flying marshmallow smacked you in the cheek. You turned to glare at Clint, before promptly lifting your own gun in response and shooting a marshmallow at him. It smacked off his temple, and sailed away into the sea of cushions that covered the floor.

“This was a good date idea,” Clint smiled, nodding at you appreciatively.

You were sitting a fairly respectable difference away from each-other, though you knew in a while you would crawl over to cuddle him. For the moment, it was easier to eat when you didn’t have a man draped around you.

“Thanks,” you responded. “See? I’ve destroyed your date monopoly with easy and accuracy.”

“Well at least you destroyed something. Your archery skills are abysmal. And it was never meant to be a monopoly,” he protested. “I just had so many ideas!”

You turned to press a kiss to his cheek. Seeing you leaning towards him, he turned his head so that your mouth found his lips instead. Instead of hungry, this time his kiss was tender and sweet. His kissed you lightly, fingers barely touching your chin. Your heart pounded so hard that you were sure he’d hear it. Or even feel it.

Maybe he did, because you felt him smile against your mouth. He kissed you one final time, and then drew back slightly. His face was still close to yours, and he looked at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“That was nice,” he said teasingly.

You nudged him, suddenly feeling a bit shy again. You knew a blush was rising to your face. He seemed to have that effect on you.

“Today was really fun,” you told him truthfully, reaching out to place a hand over his. “Thank you so much.”

He shrugged, trying to appear unbothered. However, you could see just how pleased he was by the curve of his lips. He took a sip of his Sprite, before quietly responding.

“So does that mean there will be a date number three?”

His arm slid up your back and came to rest draped across your shoulders. He tugged slightly, shifting a bit closer to you as he did. You also scooted nearer to him, smiling softly. You rested your head against his chest, gazing into his eyes and ignoring the movie still playing on the TV in-front of you.

“Yeah,” you smiled, playing with the collar of his t-shirt. “There will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, while I have taken many psychology classes, I will not pretend to be an expert on the subject, or a psychologist. When I talk about Clint's issues, the self-destructive tendencies, some of how I describe it (the effects, the cause, how he reacts) may be wrong. I've tried to avoid this by doing research, but as I've said, I'm no psychologist.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! I just have to say, the support I've gotten on this fic is some of the loveliest I've had. All of you are so kind and understanding, and I really appreciate it. Thank you all so much!

**Author's Note:**

> The Lucky eating tadpoles thing was very much based off of my own dog, who passed away over two years ago. When he was a puppy we came home one day and looked out the back door and he was splashing around in our pond eating the tadpoles. He just froze when he saw us and it was one of the most obscure things I have ever seen in my life.


End file.
